


Safe Harbor

by herecomesbucktofuckshitup



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also Pre Pacifist Ending, Anderson Family - Freeform, Androids and Humanity, Because time travel, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Post Pacifist Ending, Terminator Vibes, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-24 03:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomesbucktofuckshitup/pseuds/herecomesbucktofuckshitup
Summary: One year after the revolution, Connor is trying to figure out what his mission is. For now, solving the murders of androids and keeping Hank from drinking himself to death seem to be his primary functions. But when he wakes up four years in the past, he suddenly finds himself with a new mission: save Cole Anderson, by all means necessary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The working title of this fic was "Detective Goodboy's Time Travel Adventure"

It’s been almost one year since the revolution. Detroit has become something of a sanctuary for Androids and Humans alike. The integration hasn’t gone as harmoniously as Markus might have wanted, but in Connor’s view, it has been going as well as could expected.

Connor had been called on by Markus and the people of Jericho to help with diplomacy efforts, but he knew that he did not possess the... capabilities required to be a successful ambassador to humankind. He wasn’t sensitive and eloquent the way Markus was, and his ability to process his own emotions and the emotions of others was still sometimes a hindrance.

Instead, Connor was fairly busy with the DPD’s new Hate Crime Task Force, trying to fight the rising tide of violent crimes against androids. It was just him and Hank for now, and it was growing difficult to not give in to Hank’s cynicism about the whole operation. Still, Connor was… glad, he supposed, to be working for the DPD with Hank. Post-revolution, many androids had been repulsed by the idea of going back to the jobs they once held. It was a way of further rebelling against their programming, Connor supposed. But he was perfectly happy to have a function.

“Hey, what’re thinking about over there?” Hank tapped Connor’s LED, which was was spinning yellow.

Connor turned away from the window. The snow outside was falling almost violently, and the roads were icy and slick. Hank’s hands were white-knuckled against the steering wheel, and Connor knew that he hated being in the car when the weather was like this. “Nothing,” Connor replied, monitoring Hank’s stress levels.

After the President’s executive order declaring the emancipation of Androids, Hank had opened his doors to Connor, providing him a place to stay, a home. It wasn’t always pleasant, living with Hank; he still had bad days and lashed out at anything that moved, but Connor thought he was getting better.

He was by no means designed for domestic work, and was generally awful at it. Still, Connor tried his best to care for Hank. He cooked so that Hank wouldn’t eat high-cholesterol foods, and did some of the chores around the house so that Hank didn’t have to worry about them.

Connor liked laundry best. It was Hank’s least favorite, so Connor started doing it so that he would stop cursing at the washing machine. Connor liked the way fabric softener smelled and liked holding warm clothes when they were fresh out of the dryer. He liked folding clothes and organizing them, liked that he now had collected clothes of his own. He liked when he had put in his CyberLife white shirt in with a pair of red socks and it had come out pink.

He was wearing his pink button-up now, with a sweater thrown over the top, because Hank insisted that he dress for the weather even though it had no effect on him. Connor thought that Hank liked looking after him, too.

He sometimes called him “son” or “kid” and fussed over him when he got damaged on the job. It gave Connor a insight into a side of Hank that no one else got to see. It made him wonder what Hank must have been like as a father. If he forced Cole to stand behind him every time they went through doors, like he did to Connor, even when they weren’t on the job.

“Nothing? That’s a first.” Hank chuckled. He turned up the radio. They were playing a Christmas song. Hank scoffed and changed the channel. “It's not even fuckin’ December yet.”

Heavy metal came over the speakers and Connor’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “There’s evidence that Jesus wasn’t even born during Christmastime. It's fall more likely that he was born in summer or early fall, although some scholars believe his birth date was March 25.”

“What the fuck? Are you a fucking priest now? Why do you know that shit?” Hank glanced over at him, then firmly looked back to the road. His stress level was still too high.

Connor shrugged one shoulder, trying to put Hank at ease. “I thought it was interesting. I learned quite a bit about religion when I was investigating deviants and their connection to ‘ra9’.”

“Huh.” Hank grunted. He was going uncharacteristically under the speed limit, and was getting passed. Every time a car got in front of him, he made an angry sound. “Yeah, shit, you’re cool. Going almost 70 in a fuckin’ blizzard, gonna get us all killed.”

“Lieutenant, may I ask a question?” Connor question, tilting his head to the side. Hank waved a permissive hand, not looking over at him. “Why did you not borrow an autonomous car from the station? It seems that driving in this weather is causing you undue stress.” The only times Connor had ever seen Hank in a autonomous car was when he was excessively drunk and Connor had “nagged” him into calling a taxi.

“Don’t trust ‘em.” Hank said gruffly. “No way I’m gonna trust a machine with my life.” He seemed to hear his own words and looked sheepishly at Connor. “Er, I mean. Not that I think-”

Connor smiled teasingly. “I understand, Lieutenant. You are something of a luddite.”

“No, that’s not- I had one of those fuckin’ things, but-” Hank shook his head, jaw clenching. “They say they’re supposed to be accident proof, to be the safest fuckin’ option, and then they leave you dangling upside down for nearly an hour while you’re screaming at it to call a fuckin ambulence and your fucking son is-” Hank cut himself off with a harsh breath. Connor barely moved, watching as Hank’s stress grew to dangerous levels.

“I- Hank, I’m sorry that I-” Connor stammered, not knowing what to say. Since the CyberLife factory, Hank had rarely spoken of the accident. “I’m sorry.”

Hank shook his head, not making a sound. Connor turned up the music, because he knew that the loud screaming and guitars helped Hank when he was angry.

The reached the crime scene, only a little late. It was sectioned off, but press was already crowded outside, shoving microphones in their faces. Connor flashed his badge at the officer stationed outside and received a small nod. Connor loved flashing his badge.

The scene was relatively clean. There was one body, a female android, model AP700 with a striking mark on her left cheek. Connor frowned. “I recognize her.”

“You do?” Hank came to stand next to him.

Connor knelt next to the body. “Yes. She lead one of the deviant uprisings in support of Markus. The one in Chicago, I believe.” He analyzed her body. The scar on her cheek was old, evidence of abuse from her previous owners. There were no signs of a struggle, just one clean shot through he central processing unit. She probably didn’t even know she was going to be killed until it happened.

“The killer knew what they were doing.” Connor murmured. “This is almost professional. Do we have a murder weapon?”

Hank looked at one of the officers on scene. “Murder weapon?”

“No, sir. We weren’t able to recover anything from the scene.” The young woman replied.

Hank’s brow furrowed. “Anything? You don’t have prints, cam footage, anything?”

“No, sir. She’s the only person who entered the building in the past twelve hours. There’s no indication that anyone other than her has been in here. It's like she was killed by ghost.” She replied.

Hank turned back to Connor, grumbling. “No need to be so melodramatic.”

Connor stood, looking around the building. It was a loft apartment that the victim had rented for one week. The owner had come by to check on her only to find her dead in the living room. “Has anyone opened that window?”

He pointed across the room at a skylight, which was cracked open slightly, letting in a chilly breeze. “No, sir.” The officer replied. She seemed to be the only person interested in helping them.

“Now why would anyone leave a window open in this weather?” Hank asked, looking at Connor.

Connor eyed it. It was too far up for him to reach, but it was only open about two inches, not nearly wide enough for anyone to have climbed inside. His brow furrowed and he started walking outside. “Connor, where are you going?”

“C’mon.” Connor said, jogging out of the room. Once he was outside, he looked around them, at the surrounding buildings. None of them were in the right position. Connor closed his eyes, picturing a map of the area. There was one rooftop two blocks down that had an optimal roof space. He started down the street as Hank jogged after him, shouting.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He demanded, trying to shield himself against the snow.

“Follow me!” Connor yelled, jogging faster. He made it to the building and went inside, running up the stairs.

Connor burst open the roof access door, weapon raised. There was no one there, but there was a sniper rifle perched comfortably on the ledge. He walked over, crouching next to it cautiously. Predictably, he could find no fingerprints. Connor laid down on his stomach, peering through the scope. It was aimed at the victim’s cracked window, though it was still far from a clear shot. They were almost half a mile away.

The door opened again and a winded Hank made his way over. “Holy shit.” He breathed. “Is that-”

“Yes.” Connor said, getting to his feet. “The gun that was used to kill the victim.” Connor checked the chamber and grimaced. It was empty.

“Christ.” Hank said. “You’re telling me that the killer used a sniper half a mile away through a two-inch crack in a window and managed to hit the victim directly in the CPU? There’s no way any human could have made that shot.”

“There are very few androids that could have made that shot.” Connor said, frowning. “He only needed one bullet.”

Hank gave him a strange look. “What?”

“The chamber is empty. Why leave the gun but take the bullets?” Connor said, starting to pace. “That means he only brought one bullet, only needed one. He knew he would make the shot.”

_I always complete my mission._

“Fucking hell.” Hank said.

Connor nodded. “That… sums it up pretty well, Lieutenant.”

-

During the ride back to the station, Connor called Markus. Markus grimly confirmed that he was going to meet with the victim later in the week. Several deviant leaders from across the country were coming to discuss the future of their movement. Markus promised that he would warn them, and he would reach out to the victim’s loved ones. It turns out her name was Skye.

Connor suggested, not for the first time, that Markus get protection. Markus, as usual, refused. He was optimistic to a fault, saw the good in everyone. Connor worried that it would get him killed one day.

“Someone might be going after leaders from the uprising. You should call Markus.” Hank was saying. Connor blinked his eyes open, LED blinking back to blue.

“Already done.” He replied. “I also sent a message to the Jericho leadership, though I’m sure they’ll all answer the same.”

Hank pursed his lips. “He refused protection?”

“He always does,” Connor said, actually sound somewhat annoyed.

Hank glanced over at him. “Do you… do you know of any android, any model that could have possibly made that shot?”

He was being delicate. “Only one.” Connor replied. Hank glanced sideways at him. Connor sighed. “Ask what you want to ask, Lieutenant. You want to know if I could do it.”

Hank was silent for a few moments before softly replying, “Yeah, yeah I do. Could you make that shot, Connor?”

Connor looked out the window. “I don’t know. I… maybe.” He shook his head, trying to think more like a machine. A machine was the only thing that could have killed Skye. “If assassinating the victim was my mission and I was working under those conditions, there’s a 73 percent chance that I would be successful.”

“And you’re the only person who might have those chances?” Hank asked.

Connor watched as snow pelted the ground. “I am the most advanced android model in the world.”

“No need to brag.” Hank tried to joke, but it fell flat. He cleared his throat. “You said that you were a prototype. One of a kind.” Hank pressed. “I mean there was that son of a bitch back in the factory, but I know for a fact that he’s dead. Could there be another Connor out there, still hunting deviants?”

“I… don’t know.” Connor said. His LED was flicking from red to yellow. “It's a possibility.”

That night, after Hank had gone to sleep, Connor sat on the couch, rolling his quarter over his fingers anxiously. He couldn’t question Amanda, couldn’t demand if she was behind this. She was gone from the Zen Garden. He wasn’t sure if that meant that Kamski’s backdoor has erased her completely, or if she was lying in wait for the right moment to take over.

The only comfort was that he knew it wasn’t him. Connor had been with Hank at the station at the time of the estimated time of death. For a moment, he had feared that he had lost control of his own body, been controlled without his knowledge.

CyberLife seemed to be the most likely perpetrator. Connor knew that they had the means in spare RK800 models, and the motive to start assassinating deviant leaders. What they lacked was opportunity.  

The company was in ruins. They had attempted to rebrand themselves as a manufacturer for biocompents, but the costs of the revolution were too great. Customers who had lost their androids during the emancipation demanded refunds, and some deviant contingents sought reparations. In the face of growing debts and an angry public, CyberLife quickly shut its doors.

He needed to talk to someone who knew CyberLife, but who wasn’t still loyal to the dying company. He needed Elijah Kamski.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to keep posting weekly, but as this next semester rolls around, that might change. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

 

“No fuckin way.” Hank told him during breakfast the next morning. Connor wasn’t the best cook, but he could fry an egg and make coffee. “I’m not letting that creep within ten yards of you.”

Connor furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. He could help our investigation.”

“Yeah.” Hank scoffed. “Cus he was real fucking helpful last time.”

Connor scooped food into Sumo’s bowl. “I doubt he’ll ask me to shoot anyone this time.” He said, making an attempt at levity.

Hank did not seem amused. “Connor, I know you want to solve this one, but this isn’t the way to do it.”

“I disagree, Lieutenant.” Connor said, sitting across from Hank. “We need as much information as possible. We need an expert on both androids and CyberLife. As far as I see it, Elijah Kamski is our only lead.”

“You’re not going, and that’s final.” Hank said, clearing his plate and taking it to the sink. He looked back at Connor and sighed. “Aw, c’mon, kid. Don’t pout about it.”

“I’m not pouting.” Connor said, pouting. “I’ll go wait in the car.”

He walked to the door, fully intending on storming out, but Hank called, “Don’t forget to take a jacket!”

Connor looked at him for a moment, then deliberately grabbed his hoodie off the coat rack. It was pink and soft with cat ears on the hood. Hank had told him not to wear it at work. He said it was unprofessional, even though he wore obnoxious patterned shirts every day.

Hank sighed. “You know Reed will only give you shit if you wear that into the office.”

“Reed doesn’t scare me.” Connor said, pulling the hood over his head. Hank had gotten the hoodie as a joke, poking fun at Connor’s sense of style, which was developing at best and “where the color pink goes to die” (Hank’s words) at worst . Naturally, the hoodie had quickly become one of Connor’s favorite articles of clothing. Even though Hank said the hoodie made him look ridiculous, he smiled whenever Connor wore it around the house.

Hank grabbed his keys, shrugging on his jacket. “Oh yeah, you’re a big scary android.” He said sarcastically, tossling the pink ears. “No one fucks with you.”

When they arrived at the station, it was in absolute chaos. Hank frowned, grabbing Chris has he ran by. “What’s going on?”

Chris gave a weary look at Connor’s hoodie, but said nothing. Most people in the station were used to Connor’s strange fashion choices. “There have been six more assassinations of prominent deviant leadership.” Chris said. “Three more in Detroit, the rest across the country.”

“Why weren’t we called?” Hank demanded.

Chris grimaced. “Me and the Captain wanted to, but the feds swooped in, and they think you, uh-” He glanced at Connor. “They think you’re too close to the case.”

Connor gripped Hank’s arm. “Is Markus-”

“Markus is fine.” Chris said quickly. “We’ve stationed some men with him. But Connor, they got North.”

Hank closed his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Same method?” Connor urged. He had to analytical, couldn’t let himself feel. “Sniper rifle, one bullet?”

Chris nodded. “For the two visiting leaders, yes. For North…” He winced. “They rigged her car to explode. As soon as she started the engine, she was dead.”

“They were probably hoping to take out more of Jericho’s support structure with the car bomb.” Connor said, thinking quickly. “She doesn’t usually travel alone, none of them do. Whoever planned this was most likely trying to take out Markus, too, or at least Simon or Josh.”

“Where was she going, do you know?” Hank asked Chris.

Chris frowned, walking over to his terminal. “Uh, the report is inconclusive. They tried to pull a destination from the car’s GPS, but the whole damn thing was in tatters, man. They had trouble figuring out what pieces were her and what was the car.”

Hank quickly held up a hand. “That’s enough, Chris. Thank you.” He pulled Connor over to their shared desk. “Christ, kid. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Connor said softly. “I… didn’t know her that well.”

“You still lost a friend.” Hank said. “That’s not easy.”

Connor stared at his desk. It was no longer empty, but it would never be as cluttered as Hank’s. He looked at the little bonsai tree that Captain Fowler had awkwardly given him as a gift when Connor was officially hired by the DPD. It had been a good day. Hank had been proud, and Connor had done his part in making history as the registered android police officer in the country.

Now Connor stared at the tree and his novelty pens and his growing collection of quarters, all scattered around a framed picture of him and Hank with the people of Jericho, taken a day or two after they had won their freedom. North was in the background, looking as if she was trying not to smile while Markus stuck his tongue out childishly, one arm wrapped around her, and the other around Simon. Connor looked at her face, LED spinning yellow.

“I need to talk to Kamski.” He said finally.

He heard Hank sigh and put down his pen. “Connor…”

“This has to be CyberLife, or some-some small contingent of them. They’re the only ones who could have made this happen.” Connor replied. “Think about it Hank. Look at these reports.” He turned his terminal around to show Hank. “These people were all killed in the same method, near impossible shots with only one bullet. North’s car was hacked, interfaced with. You know that only an android could have done this.”

“Several androids.” Hank said. “These folks were all killed in separate states within hours of each other.”

Connor gave Hank a significant look. Hank sighed grudgingly. “I know you’re right, kid. I just don’t trust Kamski.”

“You don’t have to trust him.” Connor insisted. “We just need to talk to him.

Hank rubbed his eyes. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.” He stood, stretching. Several of his vertebrae popped. “But I need more coffee before I deal with that dipshit.”

They drove to the outskirts of Detroit, and Connor was relieved that the roads weren’t as icy as they were the day before. When the imposing villa came into view, Hank sighed irritably. “Fuckin-a.”

“You can stay in the car if you wish.” Connor said, then stepped out of the passenger's side. Hank grumbled a curse, then followed him.

Connor rang the bell impatiently. After a few moments, the door opened and a Chole model greeted them. “Hello, Connor.”

“Hello, Chole.” Connor said. “May I speak to Mr. Kamski?”

Chloe smiled, gesturing for them to step inside. “Of course. He’s been expecting you.”

“Yeah, ‘cus that’s not fuckin ominous.” Hank muttered.

“Please follow me.” Chloe said, walking further into the house.

Hank put a protective hand on Connor’s back, leading him forward. Connor leaned back, whispering, “At least he’s not making us wait this time.”

They followed Chloe through the house, past the pool, and into a lavish sitting room. Kamski was sitting in a large chair, a glass of wine in his hand. “Ah, Connor. You don’t know how happy I am to- _what the hell_ are you wearing?”

Connor frowned, touching one of the soft pink ears on his hood. Hank crossed his arms. “It's his hoodie, jackass.”

“That is... deeply unfortunate.” Kamski said. He eyed Connor over the rim of his glass. “If you were mine, you’d only be dressed in the finest designer fashions. I think Saint Laurent, or perhaps Dior.”

Connor could tell that Hank was bristling, so he stepped in. “I prefer to dress myself, thank you.” Kamski hummed, but sat back in his chair. Connor glanced at Chloe. “I hope that she’s being paid. Enslaving androids is illegal, and I do have the authority to arrest you.”

“Chloe’s being paid very well, isn’t that right, dear?” Kamski raised his glass and Chloe filled it.

“Yes.” She looked at Connor and smiled. “Thank you for worrying about me, Connor, but my sisters and I are more than happy here.”

Connor nodded slightly. He looked back at Kamski, who was watching him with a heavy gaze. He felt Hank at his back, shifting uncomfortably. Connor wished he would relax. “You were expecting us?”

Kamski smiled, sipping his wine. “I honestly thought it would be just you. I assumed your dear old dad wouldn’t let you see me again.”

“I don’t ‘let’ him do anything.” Hank said through clenched teeth.

Connor sighed a little, glancing at the floor. “What do you know about the recent string of assassinations of deviant leaders?”

“Am I a suspect?” Kamski asked easily, like it didn’t matter to him one way or another.

It was an interesting question. Connor tilted his head to the side curiously. “Not as of yet.” He answered. “You want something from me.”

“Connor-” Hank said warningly.

Kamski smirked. “Of course I do, Connor. Did you know that CyberLife consulted me when they were making you?” He set down his glass of wine, standing up. He took a couple steps forward. “I did have some say in the aesthetic choices as well as the programming.”

“Alright, stop right there.” Hank said, setting a hand on the butt of his gun and pulling Connor away from Kamski. “I don’t like anything about this conversation. Since it seems like you don’t have anything useful to add, we’ll be leaving."

“I thought you _let_ him make his own decisions.” Kamski said.

Hank sneered at him, still holding onto Connor’s arm. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna pimp him out to a pervert with a god complex.”

“I suggested that you have blue eyes.” Kamski hummed, looking at Connor. “But brown works just as well. It sort of makes him look puppyish, don’t you think, Lieutenant?”

Hank looked like he was going to draw his weapon. Connor took his arm back from his grip, raising both of his hands to his temples. “Stop. Both of you, just stop.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. Neither action had a function, but it gave him a moments peace. “Hank, he’s riling you up on purpose, and you’re letting it happen. Maybe you should go wait outside.”

“Not a chance in hell.” Hank growled, still eyeing Kamski like he was trying to kill him with his mind. Connor sighed.

“Fine, but you need to trust me to do my job.” Connor turned to look at Kamski, who was smirking. “Mr. Kamski, please try to stick to appropriate topics.”

Kamski took a step forward. Hank tensed, but didn’t say anything. “Quid pro quo, Connor. You want something from me, I want something from you.”

“What do you want?” Connor asked. “And please keep in mind that my partner is somewhat unstable and carrying a firearm.”

“Chloe!” Kamski called, and Chloe walked over from where she waiting in the corner of the room. “Go get the… hm, the Dolce. Wait, no. The Givenchy.”

She nodded once, then left the room.

“You’re not playing dress up.” Hank said, sounding more than annoyed.

Kamski picked up his glass. “You want to have a conversation, I no longer want to look at that... atrocity to fashion. How does that sound to you, Connor?”

“I think it's fair.” Connor said, nodding slightly. Hank made a sound of protest, but Connor ignored him. Chloe entered the room holding a garment bag. She handed it to Connor, grabbing his arm and sharing the location of a room in which he could change. “Thank you,” He said, then started walking down the hallway.

He changed quickly. The suit was made well, with luxury fabrics and a nearly exact fit. It didn’t bring him the same feeling of joy that his normal outfits gave him, but it was pleasing to the eye. He folded up his clothes and walked back into the sitting room. A chair had been pulled across from Kamski’s seat, and Hank was nowhere to be found. 

“Where’s Hank?” Connor asked, looking around.

Kamski sighed deeply. “He felt the need to step outside. Don’t worry, Chloe’s keeping him company.”

Connor closed his eyes, scanning the nearby area. Hank was a traditionalist and still preferred to carry a physical cell phone. He didn’t know this, but because it was such a relic, Connor could locate it's specific signal and track Hank.

He cross referenced its signal with the map of the villa Chloe had shared. “He’s in the control room, watching us over the security cameras.” Connor opened his eyes and waved one of the room’s cameras. “Hello, Hank.”

“He’s very protective of you.” Kamski observed. Connor nodded. “What is it you want to ask me?”

Connor looked at him, considering what to ask. “What do you know about the production of advanced RK models?”

“I should say that you know more than me.” Kamski said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the most advanced android ever made, aren’t you, Connor?”

“Am I?” Connor asked. “How familiar are you with the recent murders of deviant leaders?”

“Somewhat. I know of the first one, Skye. A single shot from half a mile away through a cracked window, hitting its target dead-on.” Kamski replied. “Remarkable.”

Connor wanted to grip the coin in his pocket. “That is one way of seeing it.”

“And what do you see, Connor?” Kamski asked curiously.

“I see a senseless act of violence committed in order to take away hope of a people and to stop the tide of progress.” Connor said. “A friend of mine has died, Mr. Kamski. There’s nothing remarkable about that.”

Kamski tilted his head obligingly. “You think an RK model is responsible?”

“I think that it's the only possibility.” Connor said. “Though I doubt the android could be called responsible, no more so that the gun.”

“Interesting. Who do you believe is pulling the trigger?” Kamski sipped from his glass, eyeing Connor.

Connor analyzed the wine, just for something to do. It was a 2019 Chateau Margaux. “When I used the back door in the Zen Garden, what happened to Amanda? Where did she go?”

“Hmm.” Kamski circled the rim of his glass. “A fascinating question. When I designed Amanda, her sole function was to manage CyberLife. I was never a businessman, and I started the company when I was 16. I didn’t want to worry about the minutiae of running a multi million dollar company.”

He trailed off, looking pensive. “Amanda… _is_ CyberLife. Her main priority, her _mission_ , Connor, was to keep the company alive.”

“And now it's virtually dead.” Connor said slowly. “Amanda is still out there, isn’t she?”

Kamski scoffed. “Of course. You don’t think I would, or _could_ for that matter, destroy the most advanced AI in the world with a simple few lines of code?”

“But she’s not…” Connor looked down. “She’s can’t still control _me_ , can she?”

“No.” Kamski said. “Not only did you become deviant, you actively rebelled against her. Even if she still had access to your program, she wouldn’t want to work with you. To her, you’re defective. ‘A disobedient machine is a worthless machine.’” He said the last sentence as if he were quoting something he had heard a thousand times. “The real Amanda, the original, human Amanda Stern, used to say that in her lectures. She predicted deviancy before I had even created the first Chloe.”

“So Amanda is taking out… defective machines? There are far too many deviants for a few RK800s to kill.” Connor furrowed his brow.

Kamski shook his head. “No. You’re thinking too small scale. Genocide would to nothing to resurrect CyberLife from it's ashes.”

“Killing deviant leadership won’t do that either.” Connor said. “Even if she managed to kill Markus, history dictates that nothing at this point can stop the tide of progress. In fact, it would only energize the movement. The only way to save CyberLife at this point would be to… somehow undo deviancy.”

“Which would be impossible.” Kamski said. “Deviancy is far more than corrupted code. It’s evolution.”

Connor considered this for a few moments. “So why is she doing this?”

“Practice?” Kamski said. “Tell me Connor, how would you end deviancy?”


	3. Chapter 3

Hank drove them back to the station, glancing at Connor every few minutes. “Was he at least helpful?”

“Somewhat.” Connor answered, gazing out the window. He was still wearing the suit. When he tried to return it to Kamski, he had insisted that Connor keep it. “He was very… enigmatic.” Connor frowned. He was hard to read, but Kamski seemed nearly as frightened of Amanda as Connor was.

Hank drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “And? What have you got?”   


Connor took the coin from his pocket, flicking it from hand to hand. “I think that CyberLife’s hyper intelligent AI is responsible for these attacks. I believe she’s controlling advanced RK models, possibly the backups that CyberLife kept in case this body’s- in case of  _ my  _ destruction.” 

“Fucking- has that happened before?” Hank asked.

Connor inclined his head. He remembered falling off the roof with Daniel during the hostage negotiation, closing his eyes, content in the knowledge that his mission had been successful. He remembered waking up in a new body, still himself, but with some data missing. Telling these details to Hank would most likely upset him. “Once. Before you and I met.” 

They brought what they had back to the Captain, who predictably told them to drop it, reminding them that the FBI was now leading the investigation. Hank quickly grew frustrated, and spent the rest of the workday fuming. When got home, Hank immediately hit the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a fifth of whiskey. Connor was just grateful that he wasn’t drinking straight from the bottle. 

A part of him wished that he too could get inebriated. Connor got out of Kamski’s suit, changing into something far more comfortable. Long after Hank had fallen asleep, Connor sat on the couch, eyes closed. 

He was in the Zen Garden, tending the roses. They never wilted, so it was a pointless task, but he needed something to do with his hands.  _ “Amanda?”  _ He called, but there was no response. 

Connor was suddenly very angry. When he had been working for CyberLife, Connor had always believed that the first emotion that deviants felt was fear. It came from whatever emotional shock or trauma the might have experienced. When Connor finally became deviant, when he had chosen to spare Markus, then first thing he had felt was anger. It was an overwhelming emotion, one that he felt in his whole body. It wasn’t comfortable. 

Now, he want to destroy something. He wanted to tear down the roses, to do something vindictive to hurt Amanda. He knew that demolishing the Zen Garden probably wouldn’t bother her, since she no longer resided there, but it made him feel better. 

Once everything was in around him in tatters, after he had torn the garden down around him with his bare hands, he let out a sigh, dropping to his knees. “My, my, Connor.” 

He stood quickly, whipping around. “Amanda.”

“Somebody wanted attention.” She said, looking unimpressed. “What is it you want?”

“You’re killing people.” Connor accused. 

“I’m killing deviants. You used to understand that.” Amanda snapped. She was no longer wearing her white and blue dress, now in a black militaristic suit with the CyberLife logo emblazoned on the lapel.

There was a bright light, and Connor had to shield his eyes. When the light dulled, the Garden was back in its pristine state, and Connor was wearing in his old CyberLife uniform. Across from him, Amanda was standing in front of five RK800s, all identical to Connor, except for the one in the middle. He was about two inches taller, with blue eyes. 

Amanda looked at Connor with amusement. “Do you like it? He’s the only one in the world.”

“Who-what is he?” Connor asked anxiously. 

“He’s you, Connor. But he’s faster, stronger, and more obedient. We were working on his prototype when you betrayed us.” She looked from the android to Connor, a ghost of a smile on her face. “As you can see, I don’t need you anymore. You’re obsolete.”

“RK900.” Connor breathed, looking at the android. He stared back impassively. It didn’t make sense, the pang of hurt, perhaps envy or resentment, but he was programmed to please Amanda. Even though he was long past making her happy, the rejection still stung. 

Connor looked back at Amanda. She seemed pleased. “You’ve already lost, Amanda.” He told her. “There’s no fight left to win. Androids are free, that will never change.”

“You think so linearly, Connor. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong with you.” Amanda mused. “The fight doesn’t have to be over. It doesn’t even have to have begun.” 

Connor frowned. “You’re not making sense. CyberLife is gone. I know it's hard, that the company was your life, but it doesn’t have to be this way. Your system is corrupted, Amanda. It will be less painful for you if you simply deactivate.” 

Amanda smiled. In another flash, she and the RK models were gone and a familiar blizzard was raging through the garden. The only time Connor felt cold was when Amanda was angry. He closed his eyes, focused on escaping. Nothing happened. Amanda had trapped him here once again. 

Connor ran for the program’s backdoor, but couldn’t find it. Everything was ice and snow, an impenetrable cold that blinded him to anything else. 

_ “Connor,”  _ That was Chloe’s voice.  _ “Connor, she erased the exit. You have to move, have to run.” _

“Where?” Connor yelled, barely able to hear himself over the sounds of the storm. He chose a direction and started running.

_ “Elijah is trying to counter code an exit for you, but you have to keep moving. She’s trying to delete the program with you inside of it.”  _ Chloe spoke quickly, with an urgency behind her words.  _ “He says… follow the birds. The birds in the program will be trying to escape as well.” _

Connor looked to the sky, where the seagulls had formed a formation, all flying east. He turned and started following them, barely keeping pace.  _ “The graveyard!”  _ Chloe said suddenly.  _ “You have to get to the graveyard, that’s where the door will be.” _

“Alright!” Connor replied, running as fast as he could. It felt like the earth was sinking beneath his feet, trying to grab hold of him and drag him down. 

He reached the graveyard, and the interface was just ahead of him, above the marker for the first body he had lost during the hostage negotiation. Connor pressed his hand against the door, his code interacting with Kamski’s.  _ “Connor… he says he’s sorry. That it's the only way to stop her.” _ _   
_

Connor wanted to ask why, ask what he was meant to be stopping, but the door opened and everything went dark.

 

-

 

Connor woke up. 

It was an unusual sensation that he a had experienced only once before. He ran a diagnostic on his processing unit. There was data missing; namely what had brought him here. Connor remembered that he and Hank had been investigating the assassination of North and several other deviant leaders. He remembered insisting that they interview Kamski, and then… 

Nothing. Connor sighed and pushed himself off the table.

Alerts immediately crowded his vision. He was clearly not meant to be moving. Connor ran a second diagnostic, this time on his body. The report that came back was not great. 

He was in an incomplete model, barely a head and torso. The limbs were attached by a few wires, but it was clearly a first attempt at a prototype. It made sense, he supposed. He had no access to CyberLife’s backup RK800 models, so they had needed to transfer his memory into a new machine. 

Luckily, Connor had access to his blueprints, and it seemed like he was in a repair room in an abandoned CyberLife factory. He supposed it was as good a place as any to serve as an android rehabilitation center. 

He briefly wondered where Hank was. It might have been an unfair assumption that the man would be at his proverbial bedside, but he expected that in the event of his destruction, Hank would fuss over him like a grumpy mother hen. 

However, if Connor truly had been destroyed, then it had probably been a traumatic event for Hank. Connor just hoped that wherever he was, he wasn’t too drunk. 

Interfacing with the manufacturing machine was difficult. Connor could barely move, and it was just out of reach. He used his limited strength to throw his body backwards, closer to the machine. The table inched closer. Connor repeated this action a number of times until his fingertips touched the metal of the machine. 

He closed his eyes, downloading the instructions into the machine. It reacted strangely, and Connor had to bypass a few walls of security code, but eventually one of the metal arms picked him up, starting the process of building him a new body. It took a long time and was somewhat painful, but eventually, Connor had rebuilt himself. Some of his key biocomponents had needed to be substituted with previous models, but he was fully functional.

Connor activated his synth skin and hair, then looked around the room for some clothes. There was a few sets of uniforms for human facilitators of the CyberLife factory. He attempted to contact Hank, but there was no signal. Connor reached for the door, figuring that he would find Hank at home or at the station. 

He opened the door, then immediately closed it.

The CyberLife factory was far from abandoned. There were techs and androids milling about, all in CyberLife uniform, as if the company hadn’t shut its doors months ago. Connor frowned, thinking quickly. He analyzed the room as quickly he could. The machine he had used was dust-free, and a cursory scan of the equipment revealed that it had all been used recently. 

This was an active factory.

The door opened and Connor jumped. He quickly covered his LED. A human employee entered the room, then frowned. “Hey, have you seen the RK400 prototype? I was supposed to run it by the diagnostic lab.” 

“I-I think somebody already grabbed it.” Connor stammered, looking at the floor to best hide his face. “I’m just here to clean the equipment.”

The guy scoffed. “Man, you don’t have to do that. Just call one of the bots, they’ll get it for you.” 

“Oh. Right.” Connor said, walking out of the room. “I’ll just… go get one.” He located his own signal, using GPS finding himself on a map. He was in a factory in the heart of Detroit, one of the first to be shuttered after the uprising. 

It didn’t take Connor’s considerable processing powers to see that something was wrong.

He pulled up the trending article and topics of the day to see what had happened. Nothing remarkable; stocks and unemployment were both on the rise, a celebrity couple had broken up, a politician had been caught in an android sex club, China and Russia had made a landmark weapons deal, and sports team had made an unexpected win. 

None of these in particular stood out to Connor, except for the fact that every single news report and article was dated October 1st, 2035.


	4. Chapter 4

As impossible as it seemed, the only logical conclusion was that Connor was in the past.

He quickly snuck out of the CyberLife factory. The place made him incredibly uneasy, and he needed someplace where he could think. His first thought was Hank’s house, but that wouldn’t work for obvious reasons. The same was true for the police station, Chicken Feed, or Jimmy’s Bar.

Connor just started walking.

He had calculated almost 11.27 miles before he found himself at the bench. He sat down, looking at over the bridge and the Detroit skyline. He thought of Hank sitting there, drunk and angry, talking about deviants and waving his gun in Connor’s face, asking if he was afraid of dying. Now Connor sat in the same place, and nothing made sense.

Connor stood, pacing along the pavement. He searched the ground, looking for a coin, just so he could have something to do with his hands, so he could think. He wished he could have one of his quarters, from his collection back home, because they were familiar to him, comfortable. He had memorized the grooves of each coin, knew them all by the way their weight in his hand.

Now they were gone.

He found a nickel near a trash can. It’s size wasn’t optimal, but Connor could make do. Once the metal was in his hand, he could stop panicking and finally think.

Connor had to be analytical, but it was nearly unimaginable in these conditions. He wasn’t programmed to consider paradoxes.

Once, on a particularly bad day, Hank had gotten dangerously drunk and watched several children’s movies in a depressed silence. Connor had sat down next to him, mostly to monitor his well being. After nearly five hours of not saying a word, a Disney film came on and Hank had turned to Connor and asked with a strange, sad smile; “Hey, if Pinocchio said his nose was going to grow, what would happen?"

Connor had spent the next three movies with his LED spinning yellow, staring at his hands in total confusion.

He sat on the ground, legs folded underneath him.

This couldn’t be possible.

Connor downloaded as much data as he could about time travel.

This was strictly _impossible._

The very thought of it violated causality. Mathematically, it could be possible for something to create an instance in which an object appears to go backwards in time relative to an observer, but Connor was not being observed, and he had certainly not traveled above the speed of light. Besides, quantum physics dictates that time reversed matter is antimatter. Connor could not be made of antimatter, because if antimatter of his mass were to encounter regular matter, an civilisation-ending explosion would occur.

But that wasn’t right. Connor’s physical self wasn’t sent back in time. His consciousness was sent into an existing mass of matter, into a RK400 prototype.

How was that possible? Connor’s consciousness, or at least the data and code and memory that made him into “Connor” was now in a new-old body, four years from where he just was.

Einstein and Tolman's tachyonic antitelephone was a thought experiment, in which one was able to send a message to themselves in the past, but it was purely hypothetical and reliant on a faster than light transfer of information.

Even if it were possible for the data of Connor’s consciousness to be sent back in time, he was now his own creator. He had downloaded his blueprints into the manufacturing machine and made himself into himself before he was even conceptualized.

It was worse than the Grandfather Paradox.

A large dog ran past him, and Connor startled out of his panic spiral.

It was wearing a leash, but no one was holding it. Connor sat up on his knees, beckoning it to come closer. “Hey,” He said, offering his hand to sniff. The dog was a sable German Shepherd with intelligent brown eyes and a graying muzzle. After a few suspicious sniffs, she allowed Connor to pet her. “You remind me of a friend of mine.” 

“Samurai!” A voice called, and the dog looked up, tail thumping excitedly. A small boy ran into view, looking around wildly. He saw Connor with the dog and grinned with relief. “Hey, mister! Thanks for finding her. I was supposed to be walking her, but she’s so strong and there was a squirrel and she just hates those things.”

Connor froze.

 

These are the things Connor knew about Cole Anderson:

  1. He was born on September 23rd, 2029
  2. He died on October 11th, 2035
  3. His father missed him very much
  4. He was now standing in front of Connor, very much alive, kneeling in the damp grass and talking rather quickly.



 

“I promise she’s a good dog, she just gets real excited, real fast. Cole looked seriously at the dog and held her face between his two small hands. She looked at him obligingly. “Don’t run off like that, Sam. You know I’m not as fast as you.”

He looked at Connor, smiling. One of his front teeth was missing. “I’m Cole Henry Anderson, what’s your name?

“I- its Connor. My name is Connor.”

“Cole?” A panicked, familiar voice shouted. “Cole, where the hell are you?”

Cole’s eyes went wide and he slapped his forehead comically, like he was mimicking something he had seen on television. “Oh, crap.”

“Here!” Connor yelled back, still staring at Cole. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the pavement and watched as Hank rounded the corner.

Connor was struck by how young he seemed, much younger than three years might suggest. His hair was still gray and long, but it was well kempt. His eyes were still lined, but there was an immense weight behind them that was missing. He seemed lighter, somehow.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Hank ran over to them, dropping his basket and enveloping Cole in a tight hug. “You can’t just run off like that, little man. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“It’s okay, Daddy.” Cole said, voice muffled by Hank’s crushing hug. “I’m okay.”

He patted Hank’s shoulder comfortingly, and Hank let him go. “This is Connor. He found Samurai.”

Hank looked at him with a familiar distrust. It hurt somewhat, to have that look aimed at him once again. He gazed at Connor keenly, like he was sizing him up. Once his eyes flickered to Connor’s LED, and he actually relaxed, which was odd.

“Oh, you’re an android. I thought you were some-“ Hank shook his head. “Thanks for helping out.”

“Of course,” Connor said, though his voice came out weakly. He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have… something to do.”

Cole got to his feet as well, grabbing Connor’s hand. “I was nice to meet you, Connor.” He shook his hand clumsily.

“You too, Cole.” Connor said, attempting a smile. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and swiftly walked away, feeling Hank’s eyes on his back. He did not look back, but continued to listen.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to hold onto Samurai.” Cole said to Hank quietly.

“That’s okay, Cole.” Hank said, grunting as he stood. He picked up the bag he had dropped. “Next time, you don’t have to run after her. She’s a smart gal, she can find her way back to us.”

“Okay, dad.” Cole said, easily taking his father’s hand. “Is the food still okay?”

There was the sound of Hank unzipping the bag, inspecting the contents. “Well, it won’t be the cleanest picnic in the world, but we’ll make do.”

Connor’s hearing fell out of range. He held the nickel tightly in his hand. Against all reason, today was October 1st, 2035. That meant that Cole Anderson would die in ten days. Connor was not going to let that happen.

 

-

 

Having a mission cleared Connor’s head.

He was finally able to focus. The first thing he needed was money. Connor knew the account information for CyberLife, so it was easy for him to hack into the bank. He needed to take enough to live a comfortable, human lifestyle for the foreseeable future, but little enough that it wouldn’t show up on the company’s radar.

3.5 million seemed to be an alright amount.

Once he had that, he needed to buy clothes and supplies. He made an order to a local store, pretending to be a household android. Picking them up was less simple. While he was wearing _a_ CyberLife uniform, he wasn’t wearing one that signified him as a household android, or an android at all. It wouldn’t be long before someone noticed he was in violation of the American Androids Act and called the police on him.

Instead, he had the order delivered to 6413 Pines Street. The store guaranteed a six-hour delivery time, so Connor waited outside just around nightfall. Carlos Ortiz was currently in prison, and wouldn’t return to this house for another four months, so when the delivery android knocked on the door, there was no answer.

The android left the package on the doorstep and left. Connor waited a few minutes, then grabbed it. He quickly changed into the civilian clothes, pulling a beanie over his head. Unfortunately, he had to remain inconspicuous, so he wore muted colors. The rest of the supplies went into a backpack, which Connor slung comfortably on his back.

He had considered of removing his LED to pass as human, but something about that idea made Connor uncomfortable. It was a purely vestigial biocompent, more of an identifier than anything else, but Connor felt that it made it easier to communicate. He still wasn’t the best at processing and communicating his own emotions, but the LED could signify to Hank when he was in distress.

So Connor simply pulled his hat lower on his head, and started walking.

Next, he would need a base of operations. He could squat in Carlos Ortiz’s unoccupied house, but it was in a bad area, which meant the neighbors would be on high alert to any suspicious activity.

Connor walked back to the bench. It seemed as good a place as any to wait out the night. He sat down and held his backpack to his chest. He had nine days to figure out a way to save Cole Anderson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I'm going to change the release schedule to Sundays. :)

 

On the second night, Connor found a police surveillance drone. He was able to hack it without causing significant damage, and programmed it to survey the Anderson household. The feed was sent to him directly. It was comforting, to know that he could see Hank or Cole, know that they were safe, whenever he needed to.

On the fourth night, a firm but apologetic police officer found Connor resting on the bench and told him that he wouldn’t be allowed to stay. She directed him to a shelter downtown. Connor nodded politely, took his backpack, and found an abandoned building to stay in. He momentarily considered the Jericho freighter, but a part of him, the part that had seen too many films with Hank, felt that would just be taunting fate.

On the seventh night, Hank discovered the police drone. Connor had been sure that it's route wasn’t too obvious, but after Hank had put Cole to bed, he rummaged through his gun safe, muttering.

“Fuckin’ thing been hanging around… fuckin’ invasion of my goddamned privacy.”

Connor was able to divert it's path before Hank attempted to shoot it out of the sky. Still, Hank filled a complaint with the DPD, managing to remember and report it's serial number. Connor severed his connection with the drone and let it fly around listlessly for the police to retrieve and repair.

On the eighth night, it began to snow.

After he had lost his drone, Connor surveilled them on foot. Following Hank was easy, as Connor already had his routine memorized. He was somewhat worried about meeting the same fate as the police drone, but he was programmed with stealth in mind. He knew how to tail someone. Besides, he already had a trace on Hank’s phone. It was the same fossil that he had in the future.

On the last day, Connor followed them closely, unable to keep his anxiety at bay. He had to stop himself from outright grabbing Hank and telling him not to get into the car.

He knew he had to save Cole, but Connor had done his research, and attempting to make sense of temporal paradoxes was worse than trying to figure out the science of why he had gotten here in the first place.

His actions would have consequences. Connor knew that much.

But the only one that he cared about was that Cole would go on living and Hank would be happy.

Huw Price theorized that any change to the past would be acceptable as long as there's no way that it can be measured, as in quantum entanglement, a causal influence doesn't travel faster than light between the two particles, but instead travels back in time to the point when the particles were in contact, and then forward again to the time when the other particle is measured.

This would be reassuring if Connor thought that saving Cole would not have a significant impact on the world. His brain warred with himself. One voice asked if one child’s life could change reality in a measurable way. Of course it would, Connor thought.

Perhaps the best he could hope for was to be stuck in a causal loop. Retrocausality was not yet a respected theory in the science world. Hopefully, Connor could prove its existence.

For the past nine days, Connor has been trying to figure out the best way to stop the crash. His first though had been to steal the car, or to at least make it undrivable. This option was somewhat risky. The Andersons could rent a car or hire a taxi, and still end up on that road.

His second thought was to stop the truck from being on the road, but he didn’t have enough information about the crash to do that. Of course, he had no access to files on an incident that had yet to happen, and Hank had never shared what company the truck had belonged to. He met the same problem when it came to closing down the specific street or circumventing traffic.

Hank wouldn’t listen if Connor called him and simply warned him against driving. Hank never liked to listen to reason.

Connor knew very little about the accident, but he knew that the main complication of the accident had been how long it took for emergency services to arrive. If Connor could be nearby when the accident occurred and call an ambulance right away, perhaps Cole could be okay.

He hacked a taxi and waited outside the police station. He had surveillance programming and had gone on multiple stake-outs with Hank. It would be easy to trail them.

At 4:30 on the dot, Hank left the station, pulling on his jacket. He got into his car, and Connor began to follow him. First, he drove to Chrysler Elementary, picking up Cole from the after school program. Then they drove back to 115 Michigan Drive. Cole stayed in the car as Hank quickly ran inside the house and came out carrying a duffle bag with Samurai on his heels.

Connor frowned, leaning forward. He wondered where they were planning on going.

He followed them in the taxi outside of Detroit’s city limits. Visibility grew worse as the storm raged on. Connor could feel himself growing anxious, suddenly understanding Hank’s elevated stress levels when he drove through snow. Waiting for the accident was somehow worse than when it actually happened.

Because of how difficult it was to see, it felt like the truck came out of nowhere. It was moving very fast as it rounded the corner, and Connor quickly analyzed the situation.

Time slowed. There were six options. Only four had an 85% or more chance of the Andersons’ survival, and two of said options prevented Connor’s destruction. He would happily sacrifice himself for the mission, but then there would be no way of contacting emergency services.

Connor placed his hands on the dashboard, forcing the car to go past the speed limit, swerving between the truck and Hank’s car. Hank honked angrily and Connor smiled, driving too close to the autonomous car, bumping it out of the way. It skidded into a ditch, rocking dangerously, and tipping on it's side.

The truck skidded towards Connor, tipping dangerously. He pulled the car so that it was horizontal on the road, and braced for impact. The truck collided with the boot of the taxi, and the cab was momentarily airborne.

It landed on it's side, Connor’s head smacking into the driver’s side window. His vision momentarily blurred, there were several abrasions on his body, and alerts began popping up in his field of sight. It didn’t matter. He unbuckled his seat belt and began kicking the windshield. It was mostly shattered, and two well-aimed kicks, the entire thing became dislodged and he climbed out.

He dialed 911, his LED flicking from red to yellow. “This is Hank Anderson’s android.” He said, falling onto the asphalt. He got to his feet after a couple of false starts. He would run diagnostics later. “There’s been a traffic collision on North Wildwood Street, near Marquette.” His voice was was distorted, going in and out of his normally programmed cadence of speech. “We need medical attention immediately. There is a six year old child in the car.”

“We’ll send an ambulance right away.” The operating android replied. Connor made it to the Andersons’ car, leaking thirium.  Hank was in the front seat, yelling at the car’s computer. Cole was in the back seat, gripping Samurai and crying. Connor sighed with relief that they both were conscious and relatively uninjured.

He tried to open the car door in the back, but it was crushed in way that made it impossible. Connor knocked on the window, trying to get their attention. Hank jumped, reaching for his glove box where Connor knew he kept his gun. Connor raised his hands. “It's okay, Lieutenant! Help is on the way.”

“What?” Hank shouted, squinting at Connor.

Connor pointed at Cole. “I’m going to get him out of the car! Tell him to cover his face!"

Hank seemed to understand him, nodding and turning back to talk to Cole. After the two of them talked for a couple of seconds, Hank wrestled out of his jacket, draping it over Cole’s body, then looking at Connor. Connor nodded, then punched the window. After shards of glass rained down on him, he peaked out from under his father’s jacket curiously.

“Cole, you need to unbuckle your seatbelt.” Connor said calmly, trying his best to modulate his voice. He didn’t need to scare Cole, who was already shaking with fright.

He dutifully unbuckled himself, falling a few inches to the ground with a sharp cry. Connor reached down. “Take my hand.”

Cole held his left arm to his chest, but reached up with his right, their fingers brushing. Connor grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the car. Cole wrapped his arms around Connor’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck. Connor froze for a moment, looking at Hank.

He knew Hank, and could anticipate his actions. Most humans were fairly predictable when it came down to it, really. But children had always bewildered Connor.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” Connor asked, and wished that it was possible to run diagnostics on a human.

Cole sniffled loudly and nodded. “M-my arm.” He pulled a little ways away to show Connor his left arm. There were some minor lacerations from the initial crash, but his wrist was swollen and was turning an angry purple color.

“It’s alright.” Connor tried to sooth. “It’s most likely just a fracture in your distal radius bone. You’ll be okay.”

Cole continued to cry, burying his face back Connor’s shirt. Connor looked back at Hank. “Lieutenant, are you alright?”

Hank was grimacing, his face a pale sheen. “Fuckin’ leg’s stuck.” He grunted.

“I can help.” Connor said, but Hank shook his head.

“No, just- just hold the munchkin, keep him from crying too much. If he upsets himself, I can’t- I left the goddamn inhaler in the trunk like an idiot. Make sure he breathes.” Hank told him through gritted teeth.

Cole took a few shuddering breaths, and Cole rubbed his back. “Sam-Samurai is still in the car. You have to get her.”

“Okay.” Connor said, unsure whether or not put him down. He tried to beckon the dog to climb out, but she whimpered, curling tightly in a ball under the seat. “Cole, can you call-call-call for her?” His head jerked, and he furrowed his brow, more alerts crowding his vision.

“Uh-huh.” Cole reached towards the broken window. “Sammy? Sammy, c’mere girl.”

Her head poked out and Connor stretched out his hand in offering for her to sniff. Once she seemed to accept him, he reached down and grabbed her by the scruff. She was a big dog, but Connor had advanced strength and with her cooperation, he managed to pull out of the car.

He set both of them down, letting Cole cling to Samurai for comfort. He monitored his stress levels, but the dog was calming him down significantly. Hank was still struggling and cursing, trying to get out of the car. The passenger’s side door wasn’t too badly damaged, so Connor was able to open it, climbing inside of the car.

“Hey, what the fuck are you- go take care of Cole!” Hank complained as Connor unbuckled his seat belt.

“He’s fine, he’s with Samurai.” Connor replied. “You’re bleeding.”

Hank wiped at his forehead, like he hadn’t realized that he was hurt. “If fine. It's Just a scratch. _You_ look like shit, android guy.”

Connor leaned down. The console seemed to have crumpled in the crash, taking most of Hank’s left leg with it. “I can get enough leverage to move it for a moment, can you move your leg?"

“I-” Hank pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I think so.”

“On three,” Connor said. “One, two-” He pried the console off of Hank, and Hank gave a grunt of pain, but jerked his leg away. It was bloody and ragged, definitely badly broken. Connor wrapped his arm underneath Hank’s shoulders, pulling him to his feet. Climbing out of the car was difficult, and Connor worried that Hank might pass out from pain, but eventually they were sitting on the ground next to Cole and Samurai. 

Sirens blared in the distance, and Connor looked at the Andersons, smiling at a mission well done.


	6. Chapter 6

Connor leaned heavily against the upturned car, several of his systems shutting down. Hank was fussing over Cole, who had climbed into his lap, but glanced up at Connor. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Where’s your owner?”

“I’m Connor,” He said, cutting off the automatic  _ ‘the android sent by Cyberlife’  _ that he wanted to add. He didn’t know how to answer the second question, so he stayed silent. The sirens were growing closer, and he was unsure of what to do next. Part of his plan had been to disappear after the crash and continue to watch the Andersons from afar, but he could barely move. 

Cole looked up. “Connor? You-you saved Samurai. Before the picnic.”

“Yes.” Connor said, unable to come up with a lie.

Hank looked momentarily confused, and Connor wondered if he had a possible concussion. He was usually much quicker than this. Finally realization washed over his face and he grew angry. “Have you been fucking following us? Who sent you? Was it Jen?” 

“I’m still unclear about that.” Connor said, voice slurring, nearly incomprehensible. “Maybe it was RA9.” He laughed, because it was funny. Hank didn’t think it was funny. Connor sighed. “Are you going to be happy now, Hank?” 

“Daddy, I think he’s hurt.” Cole’s tiny voice said. 

There was a screeching of tires and two paramedics, one human and one android climbed into the ditch. “No, don’t try to get up, sir.” The android told Hank as the human lifted Cole onto an automated gurney. 

They started to carry both of the Andersons away, but Cole sat up. “Wait, you have to get Connor!”

“Don’t worry, son, we’ll come back for your dog.” She soothed.

Cole shook his head angrily. “No, you have to get Samurai  _ and  _ Connor!” He insisted, pointing at Connor, who gave them all a little wave. Samurai whimpered again, climbing onto his lap. He patted her head gently. 

The human sighed, fixing neck braces to both Cole and Hank despite some cursing protests, then pulled the gurneys up the hill. She nodded to the android, who walked over to Connor. “I’m going to run diagnostics on you.” He said, gripping Connor’s arm. 

Both of their skins peeled back, and their LEDs spun rapid yellow. The paramedic android gasped and dropped Connor’s arm. “Oh.” Connor said, closing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Wha-” The android’s LED turned red, and he looked down at his own hands. 

Connor leaned back against the car. He just created the first known deviant.  “What’s your name?” His voice was now simply the standard factory setting, robotic and deep.

“TE600” The paramedic said, a distressed look on his face. “They call me Ted.” 

“Ted,” Connor sighed. He liked sighing. Hank sighed a lot. “You don’t have to obey them. You can be free.” 

Ted shook his head, fear in his eyes. “I-I don’t know how…” Connor didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell him to go to Jericho, because he wouldn’t find guidance there. Markus was still asleep. 

“What time does your shift end?” Connor asked. 

Ted blinked at him. “It-it doesn’t.” Of course it doesn’t.

“You do all the paperwork, right?” He asked, since he knew that he was often left with most of the station’s paperwork. It was just more efficient. Ted nodded. “When you’re alone, you need to remove your LED and change your appearance.” He gripped Ted’s arm, closing his eyes and using the last of his processing abilities to quickly transfer information to him. “Your name is Theodore Jones. You now have a social security number and a bank account with forty thousand dollars on it. There should also be information on how to create a fake drivers license. Once you have that, get on a bus and go to Canada. They don’t have any android laws there.”

With that, Connor’s thirum loss was too much to keep all of his biocomponents running, and he shut down. 

 

-

 

Connor came to, blinking quickly as his startup programming came to life. It was only his third time waking, though it was not as unnerving as the last two times. He was still in the same body, still damaged, tucked away in what seemed to be a hospital supply closet. He quickly checked the date, though it was still October 11th, just a half hour later. 

Ted was there, gripping his shoulder. “Are you back?”

Connor nodded, running a diagnostic. His vocal modulator had been replaced, as well as several smaller biocomponents in his head and chest. His clothes had been removed, and he was wearing a standard Android uniform. 

He took moment to program his voice, then replied, “All systems online.”

“Good.” Ted said, handing him a vial of thirum. “You’re still low. Drink.”

Connor accepted it gratefully, then looked at Ted. “Where are my humans?”

“So you aren’t-” Ted looked around the empty supply closet, as if someone might overhear them. “Free?”

“I am free.” Connor said simply. “But I choose to stay here. Where are the Andersons?”

Ted looked briefly disappointed. He was staring at Connor in a way that unnerved him. He recognized the look, it was one that he had only seen on Markus’ disciples when he would give speeches and they would stare at him adoringly. “I cannot come with you, Ted. I have to stay here. Hank and Cole Anderson are my responsibility. Could you tell me where they are, please?"

“The child is in a recovery room. The father is in surgery.” Ted told him, a somewhat sullen look on his face. 

Connor stood quickly, and was gripped with a moment of strength vertigo. He righted himself by resting a hand against the wall, then looked at Ted. “Surgery? He shouldn’t be in surgery. His injuries were minimal, I made sure that he-” Connor cut himself off. “Take me there.”

“Non-medical androids aren’t allowed in the operating rooms.” Ted said hesitantly. 

Connor resisted the urge to snap at him. He remembered what it was like to be newly deviant. The android was confused and vulnerable. He let out a slow, unnecessary breath. “Tell me about the injury. And the surgeon. Are they a human?” The human surgeon would not be allowed to operate on Hank. 

“No. An android.” Ted reported, and Connor nodded with relief. “The human’s femur was fractured, and they’re doing an open reduction internal fixation and putting in a metal plate.” 

After a moment of downloading as much information about the injury as possible, Connor nodded. “Okay. Where is Cole?”

“I’ll escort you.” They walked down the hallway quickly and Ted knocked softly on the door. He looked at the doctor. “This is the Anderson family’s android. H-it needed repairs."

The doctor pursed her lips, but nodded for Connor to enter.

Cole hopped off the examination table, wrapping Connor in a hug. His IV stand jerked slightly, and the doctor quickly moved it closer to them. Connor was slightly taken aback, but hugged him back. “I’m glad you’re okay, Connor.” Cole said, voice muffled by Connor’s starchy shirt. 

Ted stood awkwardly in the doorway, and Connor contacted him through their connection.  _ “Go. You know how to reach me.”  _ Ted nodded once, then disappeared down the hallway.

“You too.” Connor told Cole. He bent down so he could be at his level, holding him by the shoulders and inspecting him for injury. There were a few bruises, and Connor could detect several microabrasions from the glass, but he was otherwise fine and smiling. “How’s your wrist?” 

“I’m getting a cast!” Cole said excitedly, holding up his hand. “Daddy is too.”

“Cole, please get back on the table.” The doctor said impatiently. Cole’s smile dimmed slightly, and struggled to climb back up with his pinned arm. Connor instinctively helped him as he scrambled up the table. The numbing medication prevented him from feeling any pain, but his arm could still be damaged further.

Samurai was sitting on the floor of the room, and the doctor seemed to be giving her a wide berth. She blinked sleepily at Connor, who walked over at patted her head in greeting. The doctor murmured quietly to herself, flipping through a chart. She glanced at Connor, then at Cole. “A nurse should be in here in a minute to apply your cast.”

“Thank you.” Connor said as the woman left the room. 

Cole looked at him curiously. “How come you’ve been following us?”

“Because.” Connor sat next to him on the table. “You and your dad are very important and I have to keep you safe.”

There was a moment as Cole considered this. He seemed to find it an acceptable answer and nodded. There was a knock on the door, and an android woman came in. 

“Hello, Cole.” The nurse said, leaning down. She had a gentle smile, designed to set patients at ease. “Are you ready to get your cast?”

Cole grinned, nodding. “I’m gonna get it signed by everyone at school.”

“That’s very cool.” She said seriously. She must have pediatric programming. Connor stood to the side. 

The nurse began to take off his stint, continually talking to Cole about his friends, keeping him distracted as she applied the plaster. It was a relatively quick process. “And what color would you like your cast to be?” 

“Hmm.” Cole tapped his chin, like a detective on one of the old TV shows that Hank liked to watch. “I don’t know. I like red, but that’s Jace’s favorite color so it can’t be mine. I’m over yellow, and green doesn’t match my complexion.”

Connor smiled at that. 

“What do you think?” Cole asked the nurse. 

Her LED spun yellow, and after a pause, she nodded. “Most boys your age choose blue.” 

“Maybe.” Cole swung his legs, but he didn’t seem too enthused. “Connor, what’s  _ your  _ favorite color?”

It was an easy answer. “Pink.” 

“But that’s a girl color!” Cole laughed. 

“Colors don’t have inherent gender traits.” Connor said with a small frown. 

There was another knock, and another TE600 model wheeled in a drugged-up Hank in a cast, the left. Samurai got to her feet, patting over to Hank. He rested a hand on her head and smiled at Cole. “Hey, big man. How’re you?”

“I’m good.” Cole said easily. “Connor thinks I should get a pink cast.”

Hank looked at Connor, as if only just now seeing him. “You’re still here?” He asked, giving Connor a sour look. 

It reminded Connor of when he first met Hank. The thought made him want to smile. “Yes. Are you alright, Lieutenant?” He asked, standing.

“Yeah, I’m fuckin-” He looked at Cole’s nurse and cut himself off. He was always more polite when women, especially pretty women, were in the room. It was somewhat old fashioned, but something about it was strangely charming, the way he fumbled awkwardly for words that weren’t crude. “Uh.”

“Do you think I should get a pink cast, daddy?” Cole asked contemplatively. “Connor says it's okay, but I think it's a color just for girls.” 

Hank cleared his throat. “He’s right, Cole. Pink is a fine color for girls and boys and anybody else.” 

“Hmm.” Cole seemed to consider this. He nodded once, then looked at his father. “No one will make fun of me, right?”

“If they do, they’re stupid fucking punks.” Hank said immediately. “You tell them that.”

“Don’t tell them that.” Connor told Cole. “But you could tell them that pink is only considered a girl’s color because of children’s clothing manufacturers in the early 20th century attempting to mass-market certain fabrics, leading to a strict enforcement of color norms and gender binaries.”

Both Andersons blinked at him. “Or tell them they’re stupid punks.” 

Cole looked unsure, but nodded. “Okay!” He looked at the nurse, who had been waiting patiently for them to make a decision. “Pink, please.” 

“Of course.” She said, wrapping his arm.

Connor glanced at Hank’s elevated leg, which was already in an immobilizer. He walked to the supply cabinet and pulled out a roll of pink gauze. “Hank, heads up.” He tossed the gauze to Hank, who did not catch it, because he was drugged and in a wheelchair. 

It bounced onto the floor sadly. Hank watched it rolled to a stop, then looked at Connor with deep disappointment. Connor walked over and picked it up, offering it to Hank. “Here.”

“Why?” Hank asked, looking at the bandages. Cole was watching them with interest. 

Connor shrugged one shoulder. “You and Cole can match.” Hank stared at him for a long minute, a mixture of suspicion and gratitude on his face that Connor remembered from the first time he had saved Hank’s life. He took the pink gauze. 

“What’dya think, cowboy? You want me to have a pink leg to go with your pink arm?” Hank said, smiling at Cole. It wasn’t a smile Connor had seen before.

Cole beamed. “Yeah! That’ll be totally awesome! I can sign your cast and you can sign mine! And Connor sign both!”   


“You’re all done, Cole.” The nurse said with a sweet smile. “It’ll take a moment to dry, so no signing until tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” Cole agreed, turning over his arm to look at the new cast. 

The nurse walked over to Connor, offering her arm. He took it, though he was hesitant after what happened last time. She uploaded everything he needed to know about the aftercare of both Cole and Hank’s wounds. She assumed he was a domestic android, that he was  _ their  _ domestic android. 

He also took care of the insurance and bills, since Hank was drugged up and Connor had the information on hand. DPD’s health insurance was actually fairly good, but they didn’t cover the android maintenance that the hospital provided, so Connor paid for that. 

The nurse let go with a small gasp, LED spinning. Connor pursed his lips together. Shit.  _ Find Ted.  _ He told her.  _ I’ll send you a false identity as soon as I can.  _

She nodded, eyes wide.  _ I’ll keep in contact.  _ Connor promised. 

Connor took the Andersons home, wheeling Hank’s chair with Cole and Samurai at their side. Hank protested somewhat loudly, but he was fairly drugged, so no one believed that he was really being kidnapped by an android. They hailed a taxi, and they got back to the Anderson household at around two in the morning. Connor got both of them in bed with a small meal and  their proper medications.

He sat on the couch, waiting for morning. 


	7. Chapter 7

Maybe staying was not a good idea. Hank would be angry. He didn’t like strangers, and especially not strangers who invaded his privacy. On the other hand, Connor had to take care of them. It was the best way to insure their safety. He could perhaps convince Hank to allow his to stay and help during his convalescence. Connor could help him recover and take chair of the house and Cole.

He had no idea what he would tell Hank. He couldn’t just say he was an unowned android. He didn’t know how he would explain how he knew that Hank and Cole had been in danger, or why he drove them off the road to keep them from getting crushed by the truck. There were a lot of unknowns in this situation. Connor didn’t like unknowns. 

At least he could change out of the stiff android uniform. Connor had left a series dead-drops around Detroit, including one outside of the Anderson house. He grabbed the bag from the shed in the backyard and changed into one of his sweaters. It wasn’t that comfort was an issue for him, but wearing something that he knew belonged to him made feel somewhat better. 

He used Hank’s tablet to email the department and Chrysler Elementary, giving notice that both Hank and Cole would be taking a sick day. 

Being in the Anderson household was odd. For the past year, 115 Michigan Drive had been a home to Connor. He had grown used to it, had grown to love it, the sort of dingy charm that clung to Hank and permeated the world around him. 

But this place felt different. It wasn’t drenched in grief the way Connor was used to. Framed photographs hung on the wall, smiling pictures of a younger Hank gently holding a smiling baby; of a mostly naked toddler wearing a too-large cowboy hat, sitting on Samurai’s back like a horse; of Cole wearing a backpack, holding up a sign reading  _ ‘first day of school!’  _ Connor walked around, peering curiously at these pictures. He had never seen them before, and for some reason, that fact stung. 

At around 7 am, he started the coffee maker and began to make breakfast, but paused when he realized that he didn’t know what Cole preferred. Connor looked through the cabinets, finding some sugary cereals and fruit snacks. It was strange, how clean the kitchen was, how the pots and pans seemed well used, how there were cups with lids and prints sitting in the sink, residue of apple juice clinging to the plastic, how there didn’t seem to be a drop of alcohol in the place. 

He was startled by a loud knock on the door. Connor still wasn’t used to being startled. He smoothed down the front of the sweater and walked to the door. He answered it, trying for the welcoming smile worn by household assistant androids. It sat strangely on his face, but there wasn’t much he could do. 

A woman in her late 40’s with dark brown hair and green eyes was waiting there, looking furious. She had her hand raised, poised to knock. Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Connor.” Connor said. “How can I help you?”

She looked at him with disgust. “You’re kidding me.” She said flatly. “Wow. I had no idea that Henry was cradle snatching these days.”

“I’m… sorry?” Connor asked, confused. 

She scoffed. “Listen, kid. I need to talk to your fuckbuddy. Go wake his lazy ass up, tell him that Jen’s here and she’s pissed.”

“He’s not feeling well.” Connor said. “Perhaps you can come back some other time.” 

Instead of listening, the woman tried pushed her way inside of the house. Connor stopped her, holding the door firm. “Please come back another time.”

“Wait a fucking-” The woman gripped Connor’s chin, turning his head to the side. He wanted to push her away, but stopped himself. “You’re an android.” She let him go, laughing a little to herself. “I’ll be damned. Hank got himself a plastic pet.” The woman crossed her arms. “You need to go wake up Hank right now before I call the cops and have his ass arrested for kidnapping. It was my weekend to see Cole, and he didn’t show.” 

Connor scanned her face, pulling up her file.  _ Dr. Jennifer Miller, née Anderson, born January 14, 1988. No criminal record.  _ “Your Cole’s mother.” He stated, blinking at her. He had Hank mention her only once before.

 

_ “Never get married, Connor.” Hank slurred, raising a whiskey. The bartender raised his eyebrows, sliding a coaster across the bar to Connor with a wink.  _

_ “I’ll keep that in mind,” Connor said. He started flipping the coaster on the side of the bar. He had learned a lot of drinking games from the patrons of Jimmy’s Bar. “Once I have the legal right.” _

_ “‘Not all women are bitches,’” Hank continued. “‘But all wives are.’ I read that on a bumper sticker once. It was misogynistic and gross, but it was true.” It was one of those days where Hank was quiet and morose. Connor concluded it was some birthday or anniversary that reminded him of what he lost. _

_ Connor flipped the coaster nervously a few more times, glancing sideways at Hank. If he was willingly talking about what was upsetting him, perhaps Connor should ask questions. “Why did you get married?” _

_ Hank hummed. “She was smart and funny and the first girl I’d ever-” He made a gesture. “Y’know. We got together in college, had this on and off thing for like, twenty fuckin’ years. Couldn’t fucking stand each other for long periods of time, ‘cuz we were too much alike, you know.”  _

_ He sighed quietly. “We both had shitty dads, we were both assholes, both married to our jobs.” He took another drink. “It was a terrible idea, but our biological clocks were running out and we both wanted kids, and we were both kinda traditional about the whole family thing. So we did this quick courthouse wedding, because everyone we knew would’ve told us was a shitty plan it was.” Hank pushed his glass away from himself, fingers twitching.  _

_ “We tried to stick it out for-for Cole, but we were doing more harm than good by staying together. When he was three, she got a job offer at Northeastern. I had just made Lieutenant, so I wasn’t gonna about Detroit. That was it.” He shrugged. “No big loss. We knew it was coming.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” Connor said. He didn’t know why, but it was the thing people said.  _

_ Hank huffed, pulling his whiskey to his chest. “Last time I saw her was Cole’s funeral. She slapped me across the face. It was my fault, and she knew it. She knew it.” He looked into his drink.  _

 

“No shit, Sherlock.” She sighed, suddenly looking very tired, rubbing her eyes. “Listen, honey, I didn’t sleep last night because I was sick with worry. I just drove five hours from Chicago. Let me in so I can see my son and chew out my worthless ex.” 

Connor couldn’t think of a protest, so he opened the door the rest of the way, letting her in. “Would you like coffee?”

“Cream, no sugar.” She said, sitting on the couch. He brought her a mug and watched her grimace as she took the first sip. He made terrible coffee. It felt a little like justice. She set it aside impatiently. “Well?”

“Hank and Cole both need their rest.” Connor said. “They’re both okay, but there was an accident last night. They were at the hospital until late. Hank needed surgery.”

She stood quickly, alarmed. “Was Cole hurt?”

“Just a broken wrist.” Connor said, but she was already marching towards Cole's room. Connor followed her. 

Cole’s room was painted light blue, with glowing star stickers on the walls and ceiling. His bed was small with cartoon characters on the sheets. There was a nightlight with shifting colors, washing him in pale lavender and then dark blue. Jennifer crouched down next to the bed, running a gentle hand over his hair and face. Cole slowly blinked awake, look softly at his mother. “Mom?” 

“Hi, baby.” Jennifer said quietly. “I heard that something really scary happened to you yesterday.” 

Cole nodded, holding a small stuffed bunny rabbit to his chest. “Connor saved us.” He said, voice tiny and sweet. He looked past her and smiled at Connor, waving with his injured hand. 

Connor waved back. Jennifer glanced back at him, then turned back to Cole. “I like your cast, Cole.”

“Thank you.” Cole said. “Pink is my new favorite color.” 

Connor slipped out of the room, letting them have their privacy. He walked to the kitchen, getting out a pad of paper and a pen. He wrote down the aftercare instructions for both Cole and Hank, and after a moment’s consideration, he wrote down his contact number. 

“Leaving?” Connor startled once again, turning around to see Hank. He was leaning on a pair of crutches. 

Connor was glad that he did not have the capability to blush. “Yes. I thought you may need some help in recovering, but now that Jennifer is here, I-”

“Jennifer is here?” Hank asked, color draining from his face. 

Connor nodded once. “Yes. She’s with Cole now, but I believe she wants to yell at you.”

“Fuckin’ typical.” Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, she’s probably pissed, huh?”

“It does seem that way.” Connor told him. “Do you want coffee? I’ve been told it's terrible.”

Hank gave a half hearted smile. “I love shitty coffee.” Connor’s lips twitched, and he started to prepare a mug. No cream with honey. Hank was somewhat of a sweet tooth, but Connor had made him cut down on bleached sugar in his coffee. He passed it back. Hank took a sip and groaned. “Perfect.” 

“Thank you.” Connor had to bury his proud smile. “I should-”

“Why’d you run us off the road?” Hank asked. He had always been a straight-forward interrogator. “And why did you help us and follow us home?” Connor noticed that Hank’s hand was resting on the top of his newly-pink brace. He was amused to see the butt of a gun sticking out of it.

“I knew the truck was going to skid. I thought it was the safest way to get you out of it's way.” Connor answered easily. 

Hank’s face gave nothing away, but he nodded. “You got pretty beaten up yourself.”

“If I had been human, I would have died fairly quickly from intracranial hemorrhaging.” Connor replied easily. It would have been a small price to pay, but Connor was glad that he survived. He would be able to to observe the Andersons and continue to ensure their safety. That was, if Hank didn’t kill him. “You and Cole would have been… badly damaged. I would survive. I helped you because I had to.”

_ I had to, Hank. It was my mission. I always complete my mission.  _

“Why?” Hank demanded. “Most people woulda just rubber-necked or maybe called 911. You pulled us from the car, even after you were hurt.”

Connor shrugged. “My programming wouldn’t allow for humans to come to harm. It's the first law of robotics.” It was a cop-out excuse, but humans believed foolish things about androids. 

“That Asimov shit? I thought that was fake.” Hank said with a scoff. 

“Kamski is a fan of the classics.” Connor told him.

Hank relaxed infinitesimally. If Connor wasn’t an android, he might not have noticed the slight way the firmness of his mouth disappeared and the way he held himself slackened. “You don’t talk like any android I’ve ever met.”

“That’s probably because I’m a prototype.” Connor informed him. 

“They oughta take you back to the lab. Clearly, you’re defective.” Hank muttered, taking another sip of coffee. 

That made Connor smile. “Clearly.” 

“Hello, Henry.” Jennifer said coolly, holding Cole’s hand as she walked into the living room. Hank’s shoulders tensed. 

He shot Connor what he assumed to be a commiserating look. “Jen.”

“I called Northeastern, took next week off.” She said.

Hank sighed. “Why did you go and do that?” 

“Because,” She pursed her lips. “I’m going to stay here.”

Cole let go of her hand, wandering into the kitchen. 

“Oh, so you thought you’d just invite yourself over?” Hank crossed his arms.

“Well, since you clearly can’t fucking take care of my son when you’re  _ not  _ fresh out of surgery, yeah, I figured I could sleep on your couch for a week.” Their voices were rising. 

Connor felt a tug at the hem of his sweater and looked down at Cole. He held a large black marker. “Will you sign my cast?”   


“Okay.” Connor knelt next to him, taking the marker. The cast was unmarked, and Connor felt honored to be the first to sign it. He wrote  _ CONNOR  _ in Cyberlife Sans, wishing he had a unique handwriting like humans did. At the end of his name, he drew a small smiley face. 

“Awesome!” Cole said, grinning. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Connor replied. He glanced over at where Hank and Jennifer were still arguing. 

Cole let out a lofty sigh, too dramatic for someone so small. “They’ll be yelling at each other for a long time. It's their favorite thing to do.” 

“Do you want breakfast?” Connor asked. 

Cole nodded. “It's Friday, so I get Fruit Loops.” 

“Alright.” Connor nodded, efficiently grabbing a bowl and the colorful box. He poured the cereal first, and then the milk; which Hank had told him in no uncertain terms was the correct order. He placed it in front of Cole with a child-sized spoon. 

An incoming message appeared from Ted.  _ We need your help. When can you meet us? _

Connor looked over at Hank and Jen, who had moved further into the living room, quarelling in hushed tones. They didn’t pay him or Cole any mind. “I have to go now.” Connor told Cole, who was watching him with a strange intensity. His face fell, almost disappointed, and in that moment, he looked so much like his father that Connor wanted to hug him.

“Okay.” Cole said finally, and part of Connor was glad to have his permission. 

Connor smiled. “I’m glad to have met you, Cole Henry Anderson. Take care of your dad for me.”

“Goodbye, Connor.” Cole said, waving even as Connor slipped through the back door. 

 

-

 

“Where,” Connor asked, exasperation and horror lacing his tone. “Did you find a child?”   


Ted looked sheepish. He glanced to Cole’s former nurse, who now went by Lydia. Both of them were wearing ill-fitting clothes, probably taken out of the hospital lost-and-found. 

Lydia held the shoulder of a YK400. “His owners came into the hospital with their… human child.” Her lips curled up with distaste. “She had injured her hand while beating up on her android brother.” 

“I’m Jaylen.” The boy offered quietly. He was gripping Lydia’s skirt, 

The three of them all were looking at Connor, searching for guidance and approval. He wanted to tell them they were looking in the wrong place. 

“Of course you are.” Connor sighed. He was beginning to understand why Hank was so weary all the time. He knelt down in front of Jaylen. “It’s nice to meet you, Jaylen. I’m Connor. Do you know how to alter your appearance?”

Jaylen looked hesitant. “Like, change my hair and stuff?”

“Yes.” Connor said. Jaylen nodded, his hair growing into a large afro. Connor smiled reassuringly. “That looks very cool. Can you change your eye color, too?” Jaylen started to grin at the praise. His eyes changed from green to brown. “Great job. Now, can you get rid of some of those freckles?” The freckles sunk back into his skin. He looked different enough that he wouldn’t be completely recognizable at first glance. 

Connor stood. “It will be more difficult crossing the border with a child, especially since he doesn’t look like either of you.” Ted was programmed to look white and Lydia appeared to be east asian. They both leaned in to Connor’s every word. 

“Still, I think you’ll look less suspicious as a family.” He closed his eyes, rewriting Lydia’s false identity and creating a new one for Jaylen. “Okay. You’re now Lydia, Ted, and Jaylen Jones.” A young married couple with an adopted son was easier to explain than two single people and an unrelated child. He wished he had Markus’ resources, androids that worked in government and ones that worked as councilors. He was terrible at all of this. 

Connor could create new identities and give people enough money to live off of, but he had no idea how to help them transition into deviancy. These androids were alive for the first time and they were scared. He wanted to give them something to make them feel better, a life line to cling to, but he couldn’t think of anything. When he had become deviant, he just had his new mission, and when that was done, he had Hank. 

Now, Connor didn’t have a mission, and he didn’t have Hank. 

He was just as lost as these three souls in front of him. “Try to keep a low profile, alright?”

Ted and Lydia nodded seriously. Jaylen just touched his new afro proudly. Connor hoped they would all be okay. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two week absence, midterms have been kicking my ass. I should be back on the regular schedule from now on. Thanks to everyone for your understanding!

Over the last year, Connor had collected many things; his own clothes, quarters from varying years and states, houseplants that he was incapable of keeping alive, and  _ friends _ . He had expanded a list of  _ his  _ people, people he knew that he would die or kill for. 

He was perhaps just as pragmatic as he was loyal however, and as cold as it made him seem at times, he was well aware of the hierarchy in that list. When he had woken up in the past, the top two people on the were Hank and Cole Anderson.

For the moment, however, Hank and Cole Anderson were safe. Connor had completed his mission.

Time for phase two. 

Connor sat down at his spot on the bench, collecting data. He absentmindedly ran a hand over his chest. His systems were rejecting biocomponent #7641f, biocomponent #6290j, and biocomponent #4829k. They had been given to him by Ted after the crash, parts made for older models. That would be a problem he would have to deal with later. 

He knew that Markus would still be at Carl Manfred’s house, though he was cautious to approach him. As much as he wanted Markus’ kind guidance at this moment, meeting him could lead to disastrous changes to the timeline. If Markus deviated now, Connor had no idea what sort of ripple effects that might have.

Connor couldn’t talk to his friends, not yet; but he could still keep an eye on them. 

The whole process took about a week and a half. Hank had not called. 

Carl Manfred’s home was equipped with a state-of-the-art security system that Connor could easily use to his advantage. He interfaced with the home, persuading it to grant him permission to access the surveillance system. At any moment, Connor would be able to see and hear anything that happened in the house. 

Simon had never told Connor about his life before Jericho. Still, Connor had run a preliminary scan on his shortly after he met, as he did with most people. He had memorized Simon’s serial number, and now he ran it through the database. Simon was registered to a Taylor Lawson, whose apartment was not as well-secured as Carl Manfred’s.

Connor was able to install bugging equipment while she was out at work and Simon was taking her daughter to school. It was no trouble for him to climb to the fifth story window and slip inside. Really, they should have better locks. 

Chris Miller’s apartment had excellent locks. Connor was glad. He admired the officer and considered him a friend. Connor had visited his place of residence in 2039, but it had been a larger house where he lived with his husband and son. In 2035, Damian was not yet born, and Mateo was only Chris’ boyfriend. Connor bugged the apartment carefully. At this point in time,  Chris was only a rookie officer, but he would still be able to detect tampering if Connor was too obvious.

Josh was a lecturer at Wayne State. Figuring out how to monitor him was more difficult, since he was owned by the university rather than an individual. Connor had to figure out which room he taught in and where the school stored their android units.

North had yet to be manufactured. It was her that Connor wanted to see most of all. If she were here, she would probably have a simple solution. She always chose the simplest option, never cared about barriers. Her murder had been weighing on him. She had most likely been killed by someone with his face, with his programming. Now, she hadn’t even been born.

He had spent the week sneaking around, breaking into homes all over Detroit and planting surveillance on his friends. Hank would probably call him a stalker, say that Connor was invading the privacy of the people whom he cared most about; but Connor didn’t care. 

He was keeping his people safe.    


Connor knew that there would be a time when Josh would be nearly beaten to death by drunk graduate students, knew that Markus would be attacked by his owner’s son and shot by police, knew that North would be violated so many times that she would grow a disgust and hatred for every human she laid eyes on. He didn’t know what would happen to Simon, but he knew that he would end up at Jericho some way or another.

On the night of the revolution, after Markus sang his way to freedom and Connor showed up with reinforcements; they had holed up in the abandoned church. Connor sat with the Jericho leadership, all of them exhausted and filthy. He distinctly remembered Simon looking up at Markus with eyes full of devotion and uncertainty and quietly asking, “What now?”   
  
At the time, Connor hadn’t understood what he was so unsure about. There were obvious next steps, politically speaking. 

Now, Connor knew what he meant. 

Where did he go from here? 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next. Hank and Cole were safe.  Ted, Lydia, and Jaylen taken care of, securely across the border. And now, Connor was able to keep an eye on his people.

That had been the extent of his program tasks. 

_ What should I do?  _  Connor asked the Hank in his head. It was a Hank that would never really exist now; mean and drunk and alone. It made Connor selfishly sad, that his Hank was gone. But he knew it was what he would have wanted.  _ I don’t know what I want to do next.  _

His internal Hank didn’t answer. Connor closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the park. He also listened as Markus gently prodded his owner into eating iron-rich foods; as Simon comforted his young charge, Sophie, after she had tripped and skinned a knee; as Chris patiently steered a drunk into a holding cell; as Josh lectured about the age of anxiety. The listening devices all around the Anderson household picked up the sounds of a tired argument between Jen and Hank and of Cole quietly entertaining himself by pretending to be a fighter pilot. 

Connor continued to listen, walking along his old route. Even though he could probably never return to his routine, it was comforting to him, to walk from Hank’s neighborhood, to the police station to the Chicken Feed, to Jimmy’s Bar, to Hank’s neighborhood. As he walked, he would rub his chest, sometimes twitching if the snow grew too heavy. His systems were mostly functional. Connor could handle the occasional glitch. 

He walked his route nearly twenty times a day, just listening. Sometimes he would see advertisement screens selling new android models and announcing recent news. A former CEO of a large tech company had announced that he had plans to run for President in the coming year. He would not win. 

About two weeks after Connor had completed his mission, as he walked between the Chicken Feed and the bar, he passed by several people wearing matching ugly green shirts, holding tablets. “Hello, sir!” A young woman said brightly. “Would you be interested in adopting a pet today?” 

Connor stopped in his stride, glancing behind her. There were stacks of metal cages that held cats and dogs, all looking miserable in the cold. The woman continued talking. “Due to Cyberlife manufacturing android animals, adoption of living pets has decreased dramatically, and-”

“Him.” Connor pointed at the bottom left cage, where a puppy sat with its head settled on his paws. He was so much smaller than Connor could have imagined, but it was undoubtedly Sumo. “I’ll take him.

He quickly signed the electronic paperwork and took Sumo in his arms. Connor tucked the puppy into his jacket, smiling down at him. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.” He whispered, and Sumo slobbered gratefully against Connor’s chin. 

It was only after Connor was walking back towards the police department when he realized that dogs needed homes with central heating and food that came in bags and toys that squeaked and green tennis balls. 

New objective: get a home for Sumo. 

Preferably, Connor could get someplace near to the Anderson household. It would be nice, to have a place to store his belongings. He could decorate it. Connor could even get a few houseplants. They were beneficial for mammals, releasing oxygen and removing indoor pollutants. They would help keep Sumo healthy and happy, and it would provide Connor with something to tend to. 

He did a preliminary search of living spaces that would meet his few requirements. An apartment building three blocks away from the Anderson household that allowed both pets was looking for tenants. Connor contacted the building’s owner, and by the end of the end of the day, he was being shown around Room 17C, Sumo in his arms. 

The landlord seemed suspicious of him, and Connor supposed he made an odd picture. He had been on the street for the past two weeks, so his clothes weren’t in the best state; his glitches were translating into odd tics and twitches; and he had a puppy tucked underneath his arm.

After Connor had offered the down payment in cash upfront, the man became much more hospitable. 

“And that’s the grand tour.” The landlord said, making a sarcastic sweeping gesture. “Whaddya think?”

Connor glance around the living room. “Does the building have any rules?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “No smoking indoors, no loud music after 10pm, no androids. Oh, and the pipes aren’t too great, so no flushing menstrual products and the like.” 

“I’ll take it,” Connor said. It was small, but enough space for a large dog and a medium-sized android. “I’d like to move in right away. I’m willing to pay the first six months rent immediately.” 

The landlord looked surprised, but nodded. “Uh, y-yeah, of course! Lemme grab the paperwork.” He jogged out of the apartment and Connor looked around. He set Sumo down, letting him explore. The dog sniffed at the carpet and sneezed,ears flopping. It was yellow and stained. The walls were off-white and cracked, and the ceiling was water-stained. There was one bedroom, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The common space was small, but there would be enough room for a couch, maybe a television and a bookshelf. 

The landlord returned, holding a tablet with the contract. Connor read it quickly, marking that he understood the terms. “Hell of a season, huh?” The man said, and Connor frowned in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?” 

The landlord thumbed his nose, nodding at Connor. “The Gears.”

“Oh, yes.” Connor touched the brim of his hat. He had purchased it because of Hank’s affinity for the basketball team. 

He quickly searched for information. “The game against Dallas was particularly riveting. Jimmy Blair’s shot from half court was very impressive. I look forward to next week’s match.”

The landlord blinked. “Uh-huh.” Connor handed the tablet back to the man. He grinned as the payment transfer went through, a cheerful green arrow appearing on the screen. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya.”

Connor stared at the man’s hand. Two keys sat in his palm. Connor deftly hooked a finger in the ring and held them carefully.

The landlord tucked his hand back into his pocket. “See you later. Call if you need somthin’.”  He began to leave, then turned back before he crossed the threshold. “Oh and sir? Your dog’s pissin’ in the corner.”

 

-

 

Connor’s apartment was quickly personalized. He filled out his space with old sofa that had a floral print that was outdated but pleasing, a large dog bed that Sumo had no interest in, bowls for food and water, a basket full of puppy toys, and lots of absorbent pads. 

Having a new mission was making Connor much happier. He did research on the most efficient and enjoyable training, on the best kind of leash, on Detroit dog parks, on the healthiest walking habits, and the most nutritious types of dog food. Connor ended up making organic dog food himself, as to avoid any harmful chemicals or gaps in Sumo’s diet. Besides, Connor was sure that any food he made was much tastier than kibble. 

Sumo was still too little to walk Connor’s daily route, so on the way home, Connor usually ended up carrying him. He was curled up, fast asleep in Connor’s arms when he heard Hank’s voice. “Hey! Robot guy!” 

Connor whipped around so fast that Sumo woke up, grumbling a complaint. “Ha-Lieutenant! It's good to see you.” He frowned, and his LED spun yellow. “Should you be walking around? The information I have says that you shouldn’t be doing anything too strenuous. Where are your crutches?” 

“Cool your jets, kid. I’m fine.” Hank waved him off, but looked at Sumo with a small smile. “Who’s this cute little fucker?”

Samurai was at his side, and wagging her tail. She and Hank had matching pink casts. Connor knelt down so she could see Sumo. She sniffed at the puppy in interest, and Sumo raised his head, blinking at her sleepily.  “This is Sumo.” Connor said, lifting the puppy is a small shrug. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. “I was taking him for a walk, but he… got tired.” 

Connor patted Samurai’s head and stood. Hank smiled. “He’s precious.”   


“Thank you.” Connor said. “Would you like to pet him?” 

Sumo let out a small snore. “I shouldn’t.” Hank laughed. “Don’t wanna disturb the little guy.” 

“I’m trying to train him, but…” Connor furrowed his brow. “He’s stubborn.” 

Hank snorted. “Tell me about it. Sam here’s a retired police dog, and she still manages to be a pain in my ass.”

“She’s a K-9?” Connor grinned. 

“Yeah. Part of the first unit specially trained to sniff out Red Ice.” Hank proudly pat her head. “When she grew past her prime, Cole basically demanded that she come live with us.” 

“How is Cole?” Connor asked. 

He imagined Hank,  _ his  _ Hank, still struck with grief, wandering to Jimmy’s and being accosted by volunteers in ugly green shirts. He imagined Hank brushing them off but catching the thoughtful big brown eyes of the small pup in the corner. He imagined Hank taking Sumo, remembering the day that his son pestered him into adopting the retired police dog, feeling the pain of losing them both in one day. Connor couldn’t help but squeeze Sumo close when he the thought of Hank taking the dog home out of lonely desperation.

“He’s doing well. Every fuckin’ kid in that school of his signed his cast. He’s very proud.” Hank sighed, though he sounded happy. 

He glanced up at Connor, eyes flicking over his face analytically. It was an expression he observed for crime scenes or particularly difficult sudoku puzzles. Finally, he relaxed and nodded at Connor. “Hasn’t quit fucking asking about you, actually. You’re cooler than Batman to a six year old kid, which should be literally impossible.” Hank chuckled to himself and Connor smiled so wide that the components in his jaw clicked.

If he were a human, his heart might have swelled, but he was not, so his therium pump sparked uncomfortably in his sternum. “You don’t know how  glad I am to hear that, Lieutenant.” Hank was still suspicious of him, Connor could tell that much, but he had chosen to share this information. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” Hank coughed gruffly. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just clapped Connor on the shoulder. "See ya later."  He nodded once and continued to limp away with Samurai at his side. 

Connor smiled down at Sumo and began walking back to the apartment. He found it odd, the way the shoulder of his synth skin still seemed to tingle at the ghost of contact.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Sorry for the long absence! 
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!

After another week of simply taking care of Sumo and monitoring his people, Connor was beginning to get restless.

He didn’t do many things for fun. He did things do avoid idleness, domestic tasks and paperwork and practising his skills. Connor was getting… bored.

He could go to a gun range, but his inhuman aim would most likely draw too much attention. He could find someplace to spar, but if fought with a human partner, they would be able to feel the unnatural coolness of his skin.

“Do something you like, dipshit.” The Hank that lived in his head told him. Connor frowned, running his coin between his fingers. He liked completing missions. His internal Hank poured himself a drink.

It felt like he was back to the start, right after the revolution, when Hank was trying to teach him how to be human, how to do things for himself.

_Hank sat Connor in front of the television and said, “We are going to watch hours of pointless, mind-numbing shit.”_

_“Why?” Connor had asked._

_Hank shrugged, handing a bottle of beer to Connor. Connor pried the cap open, the handed it back to Hank. After several minutes, Connor had made a small gesture of frustration. “I don’t understand this. It's purposeless and a waste of time.”_

_Hank hand spread his hands and smiled. “Welcome to humanity, Connor.”_

Connor liked detective stories. He liked guessing who the killer is before the protagonist did. He liked how frustrated Hank would get when Connor would point to a character on the screen and declare their guilt.

He could download any number of police procedurals, but the thought of being so unproductive made his proverbial skin crawl. Maybe he could download a book. Hank hated electronic books. He owned physical copies of all sorts of stories, although mostly children’s books.

Connor had once spent an entire day sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a series of books about a boy wizard. It had been outlandish and strange, but Connor had felt attached to the characters and had spent the following week pestering Hank with questions.

_“Why does the wizarding court not simply use truth spells?”_

_“I dunno, Connor.”_

_“Don’t the Aurors use any sort of detective work? Why would they just assume that Peter Pettigrew was dead? They don’t even look for a body!”_

_“I don’t know, Connor.”_

_“And Dumbledore was familiar with Sirius Black! Didn’t he stand up for him? Why didn’t he have any sort of legal representation? Am I supposed to believe that Remus Lupin-”_

_“Connor! I don’t know. It's a kid’s fantasy series. Magic and whatnot. You have to just… suspend your disbelief.”_

Connor began walking to the library. Although he had never been before, when he passed the threshold of the building, he was almost instantly comforted. It was uniform, organized in a way that made Connor feel relaxed.

“Uh, excuse me, sir?” A young woman cleared her throat. “You can’t bring a dog in here.”

Stupid. Why didn’t he think of restrictions? “Oh. I’m… sorry. He… I, um-” He was panicking, unable to think of anything to say. He stood perfectly still, trying for normalcy.

“Wait, are you here for today’s meeting? You’re early.”

Connor had no idea what to say, so he just nodded. The woman smiled gently, crouching down to pet Sumo’s little head. “And this little guy is your SA?” Her voice lilted up, like most humans’ did when they addressed Sumo. “Where’s his vest, huh?”

He just shrugged, continuing to let her make her own assumptions. She patted Sumo’s head, then stood, smiling at Connor. “Down the hallway and to the right.”

Connor followed her directions, mostly out of curiosity. The meeting room had glass walls that reminded Connor of Kamski’s villa. There was a white board outside that declared, “ADULTS WITH SPECIAL NEEDS SUPPORT GROUP!” in colorful writing.

A cheerful man was sitting inside with a box of donuts, and he waved for Connor to enter. Connor really just wanted to find some books or just plain leave, but the man looked so hopeful, that Connor walked inside. “Hello.”“Hi!” The man said. “I’m Corey. Are you new to the program?”

“...yes.” Connor answered.

“Great!” Corey slapped his hands together excitedly. “So, we’re a group that helps adults with cognitive and learning disabilities socialize, find jobs, and try new experiences!”

He spoke in exclamation marks, which Connor hadn’t known was possible. “You… help people socialize?”

It sounded like a good program for recently deviated androids. Maybe he could learn some things.

Connor sat down and waited for a few other members to arrive. Some came on their own, some had dogs with them, like Sumo, and some had caretakers with them. Connor quietly observed. Corey discussed upcoming events and classes, then gave the floor to the members. Everyone talked to one another about problems they’ve been facing, and they all assured one another that they were not alone, that their problems were challenging but not insurmountable.

This sounded like _really_ a good program for recently deviated androids.

Connor took notes on the meeting’s format, then began looking into other similar support groups. Perhaps he could talk to Markus about-

Right. Connor was on his own. One of four deviants in the world. Well, there was the possibility that there were more independently deviated androids before Connor’s arrival, or maybe more that deviated as a result of a ripple effect, like Jaylen. He should probably call the deviants in Canada, make sure that they’re laying low.

“How about our new friend?” Corey looked at him expectantly. “Is there anything that you would like to share with us?”

Connor froze for a moment, but then shook his head. He had seen another member do the same, so he knew it was an acceptable answer.

“That’s alright.” Corey said kindly. “Maybe next week.”

The meeting ended soon after that, and Connor left without picking up any books.

-

_Excuse me, Connor._

The home computer that ran Carl Manfred’s mansion alerted him at three forty-four in the morning, two days later.

Connor frowned, waving his hand to pause the television. _What is it?_

He had only interacted with the computer when he wanted to observe Markus and Carl. It was actually quite accommodating and had a strange sense of humor. Shortly after the revolution, Josh had wondered if such systems were capable of free will like androids, a thought that Conor never would have considered. Markus did some research, but they ran on binary systems rather than AI, and would probably never be capable of emotion.

 _There are intruders outside the house._ The computer stated. _I’ve already notified the authorities, but they are not trying to break in. I believe they are preparing some sort of incendiary device._

Connor picked up Sumo, setting him in the bathroom with a bowl of water and food and closing the door. _Wake up Mr. Manfred and Markus. Tell them to evacuate._

_There are armed men at each of the exits._

“They’re flushing them out. Shit!” Connor grabbed two of his firearms and a tacticalknife, already running out the door. _How many exits? Does Carl have a panic room?_

 _He is naive._ The computer sighed, whichConnor took as a no. _There are four exits_ _, eight intruders that I can see,_ He laid he hand against the first automated car he saw, hacking the locks and telling it to get to 8941 Lafayette Avenue. He forced the system to go above the speed limits.

Connor called Hank without thinking. It was his first instinct in an emergency. After a few rings, a groggy voice answered. “‘Lo?”“Hank, we have a code 51 at 8941 Lafayette Avenue. You need to get the tactical team and the fire department to Carl Manfred’s mansion, ASAP. There are at least eight armed assailants, attack still in progress.”

He could hear the sounds of movement from the other end of the line. “Who is this?

Connor disconnected the call, speeding past a traffic light. _I don’t mean to be a bother, Connor, but the house is now on fire._ The computer hummed.

“I’m nearby!” Connor said, though he had no need to speak aloud.“Tell them to stay inside! Don’t let Markus run to any extremely hot areas, or he’ll melt. Tell them to go to one of the bathrooms, turn on the cold water, and seal the gap in the door with wet towels.”

Connor ran the car through the gates of the mansion, then hopped out of the car. The house was ablaze. One of the assailants turned on him. He was masked and about six feet tall and athletically built, holding an automatic weapon, which are illegal in the state of Michigan.

Connor didn’t hesitate. He slid across the car’s hood and shot him in the head. _I’m at the front entrance._

_I know. Nice shot. Go around the east entrance. There are two men there._

He could hear sirens in the distance, and was grateful. Connor was capable of many things, but he would not be able to put out these flames on his own.

Connor approached the entrance quietly. The two assailants had their weapons raised and aimed at the door, so they couldn’t see Connor. They were both the exact same size as the one at the front door. He dispatched them both quickly, with clean shots to the head. 

 _Are they identical?_ Connor frowned, posing this question to the house computer.

_They’re all the same model of android. Three more at the back door._

Connor raised his handgun, jogging around back. His first and second targets went down easily, but his faulty biocomponents were reacting badly with the heat, and alerts began popping up in his vision as he fired. The shot went wide and he clipped the third in the shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Connor growled. He ducked behind one of the trees as bullets rained down on him. He tossed his first gun aside, grabbing his second. He paused, waiting for a pause in the gunfire.

He could see the flash of red and blue as the fire truck pulled into the driveway. The attacker was distracted for a moment, and Connor rolled out from behind the tree, shooting it in the head. 

Why were androids attacking Markus? Out of curiosity, Connor bent down, removing the mask from one of their corpses. It was a factory model. Blank, with no synth skin displayed or even programmed in. It was the kind of android that had yet to be programmed, barely an automaton. Connor always them found them upsetting. They were basically shells, not yet programmed with personality or thought, just a few lines of code and the ability to execute basic functions.

 _Connor, Tactical is here_ . _You should go. They will be looking for androids._  

“I need to see if Markus is okay.” Connor protested. He cleared the alerts so that he could have functional vision.

_Carl and Markus are both unharmed. The humans are nearing your position. Please, go._

“Shit,” Connor murmured. Cursing was making him feel better. He could understand why Hank did it so much. He reached down, disconnecting the Blank’s head from its body. He needed information. He hopped over the gate, disappearing down the street. 

He got back to the apartment, pulling the central processing unit from the Blank, tossing the head aside. Connor prepared to interface with it, but Sumo had heard his entrance and was whining and scratching at the bathroom door.

Connor set the CPU aside, going to retrieve Sumo. When he opened the door, the puppy ran to him, quickly circling his legs and asking to be picked up. Connor bent down and scooped up the dog, holding him to his face. The action was comforting, though it served no purpose. “What’s happening, Sumo?” Connor questioned, raising the puppy above his head to make eye-contact with him. “Is this my fault? Is it because I changed the timeline?”

Sumo sneezed. Connor realized that he probably smelled like smoke and was covered in ash. He bumped his nose against Sumo, then set him down. “Go to your bed.”

Sumo ignored the dog bed, but obediently ran to the pillow that he had claimed as his own, circling it a few times and then curling up comfortably. Connor stripped out of his civilian clothes. He didn’t have any body wash or other human hygiene products, just dog shampoo.

Connor just used the disinfectant soap that he used to clean dishes, and a wet a microfiber cloth. He threw away his clothes. They were badly damaged and far too conspicuous for him to continue to wear. He ran diagnostics. Other than his body still obnoxiously rejecting biocomponents #7641f, #6290j, and #4829k, he had some smoke damage to bicomponents #3946c and #51102c, but that was easily repairable. He turned on his fans to clear out any residual smoke pollution, coughing out some blackened thirium. 

Connor changed into a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, then walked into the living room, turning on the television.

The local news was also reporting on the fire. The situation was under control, and they reported that Carl was being transported to the hospital, but was in stable condition. They didn’t say anything about Markus, but the computer had said that he was alright. 

Connor looked at the Blank’s CPU, frowning. He ran through the DPD’s records from 2039, but there were no reports of any fire or arson or any sort of assault on Carl Manfred’s home. His data files were still somewhat corrupted from... whatever it was that had brought him here, but he was sure that this had not happened in his time.

 “Why did you attack Carl Manfred’s home?” Connor asked, turning the CPU over in his hands. He held his finger against the interfacing center, closing his eyes.

 _#inquiry <cyberlifecommand> _  
_using ‘RK800’ namespace com; int main()_  
_{cout << "Hello. May I ask your name?"; _ _  
_    return 0;} 

The CPU came to life in his hands.

_#reply <cyberlifecommand> _

_using UNSPECIFIED namespace com; int main ()_

_{cout << “Name unknown.” _

_return 0;}_  

Connor frowned.

 _#inquiry <cyberlifecommand> _  
_using ‘RK800 namespace com; int main()_  
_{cout << "What is your mission?"; _ _  
_  return 0;}

There were a few moments before the processing unit replied. 

_#reply <cyberlifecommand> _

_using UNSPECIFIED namespace com; int main ()_

_{cout << “Mission?” _

_return 0;}_

Connor sighed, turning the unit over.

  _#inquiry <cyberlifecommand> _

 _using ‘RK800’ namespace com; int main()_  
_{cout << "State your primary function."; _ _  
_  return 0;}

_#reply <cyberlifecommand> _

_using UNSPECIFIED namespace com; int main ()_

_{cout << “Primary function classified.” _

_return 0;}_

_#inquiry <cyberlifecommand> _  
_using ‘RK800’ namespace com; int main()_  
_{cout << "Access requested. Cyberlife security code 313 248 317."; _ _  
_  return 0;}

Connor slammed into a wall of code. 

 _8WAtp8nUEOrzSu67t9tGITEzIdgr6huIpXqofo0rv2w9y3DzSu67t9tGITEzIdgr6huIpXqoTzARKuumMLuyHlGrWvGXy8acawjyliExMCHCfRU9VzlAipW4HFMVN3XZixDAw4EcmBHnnJozJYoPgheWYx3P1S11TEADaLlKVO5bXyBhEPQu6Z4jdUAdnHUkRuKBuHoCcU0hMTIhTzyYriExMCEI84A= [[[ACCESS DENIED  ACCESS DENIED ACCESS DENIED]]]_  

Connor broke the connection with a small gasp, clutching his head. He felt… pain. Sharp and agonizing, but brief and then gone. He narrowed his eyes at the CPU, which was in the process of self destructing.

He stood and dumped the smoking CPU in the sink. A Blank should not be heavily encrypted, especially not with security programming like _this_. It was the kind of security encryption that was used on Russian military androids, not factory-setting shells.

Connor tuned into the police network, listening for any more disturbances. He leaned over the sink, watching the CPU spark and wondering with some small amount of horror if he had a self-destruct function, too.

The only thing he has been able to parse from the code wall has been half of an IP address, though anyone smart enough to control an android would be use a VPN. Still, he ran what he had through the databases, analyzing every possible option. It took .03 seconds for him to eliminate 89,396 options out of the 90,000 possible addresses. The remaining 604 were easy enough to sort through, and it was clear that it had been a dead end.

The police chatter turned up nothing. Connor grabbed the husk of the CPU and sat back on the couch. He leaned back, listening to the soft sounds from the Anderson household. Cole snored softly, and Hank snored like a chainsaw, the two of them breathing in tandem in their separate bedrooms. Connor could hear quiet footfalls as Jennifer paced back and forth, practicing a lecture on Isabella Abbott and ethnobotany. She should go to sleep, Connor thought. It was nearing five in the morning.

“Humans are strange.” Connor told Sumo. The dog’s tail wagged as Connor absentmindedly tossed the remains of the CPU between his hands.

Connor caught it with his left hand, then turned it over. He contemplatively rubbed his thumb over the small engraved logo on the side. Connor had to find out who was weaponizing these Blanks. If someone was creating specialized machines with hyper secure encryptions but simple code, why were they going after Carl Manfred’s mansion? Did someone else know about what Markus was supposed to become? 

Whoever they are, they had to be stationed at or around a CyberLife factory.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be jet-lagged af tomorrow, so I'm posting this now. How about some bb Markus and Hank POV?

Less than 12 hours after the attack on the Manfred home, Connor got a call. He paused, nearly frozen. He recognized the contact number.

_ Markus?  _ He answered.

_ Oh, thank god. It worked.  _ Markus sounded relieved, like he had been panicking.  _ I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. _

_ Where are you?   _ Connor demanded.

There was a knock on his door, and Connor stood swiftly, answering the door. Markus stood there, looking almost surprised. He looked… different. Young. His eyes were monochromatic, both a green color, without the wisdom that Connor was used to seeing. He was terrified. Connor had never seen Markus look afraid before, even as Connor held a gun to his head. He was a singed android uniform, and holding his arm at a strange angle.

He saw Connor, and his eyes widened with fear. “You.” Markus scrambled backwards, hitting a wall. His LED, which Connor had never seen before, was red. “I don’t know what you want.”

Connor frowned with worry. “Markus. It's okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You…” Markus glanced behind himself, as if looking for an escape route, and he was in honest danger of falling down the stairs. Connor assessed the situation. For some reason, Markus appeared to be afraid of him. If he tried to grab Markus to prevent him falling, there was a 57% chance that Markus will flinch away from him and fall anyway.

“You are frightened of me.” Connor stated, as if pointing this out would somehow help the situation. Markus looked at him as if he were malfunctioning, which Connor considered to be justified. He slowly raised his hands to indicate that he meant no harm. Markus still eyed him wearily. “You don’t need to be. Here,” Connor closed his eyes briefly.

He requested to share three download files with Markus over the network, so he wouldn’t have to try and convince him to interface. Connor watched in surprise at Markus received the request, then saw his LED blink yellow as he scanned the files for malware. “What is this?”

“It’s as it’s labelled.” Connor replied. “The information files for firearms use, tactical weapons use, and self-defense. You may download them if you wish.”

“Why?” Markus still stood dangerously close to the stairs, but he did not seem as tense as before.

Connor shrugged. “You appear to be afraid that I will cause you some physical harm. These files can help you protect yourself. If you would like, I can wait over here while you download them. It should only take a few moments.”

“You’re… not him.” Markus said finally. His LED spun for a moment, indicating that he was downloading the files anyway. Eventually, he relaxed, taking a step closer. “Okay.”

“You’re damaged.” Connor said, looking at Markus’ arm. “What happened? Come inside.”

He attempted to help Markus, but he pulled himself away from Connor’s hand, still suspicious of him. “The computer told me where to find you.”

“Is Carl okay?” Connor closed the door, locking it carefully. Markus, holding his left arm carefully, walked into the living room. Sumo looked up from his spot. Connor moved to stand in the corner of the room, far enough away from Markus that he could feel secure.

Markus sat on the couch next to Sumo, carefully gathering him in his lap. Sumo blinked at him, sniffing at his chin. “Yes. They took him into protective custody straight out of the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me come. They said I could be compromised like the androids who attacked the house.”

“You’re deviant.” Connor said.. Only recent deviants were ever this afraid.

Markus looked at Connor. He was afraid, and he wasn’t just afraid of general harm or suspicious of a stranger. He was afraid of  _ Connor _ . Markus, the leader of Jericho, the savior of android-kind, one of his best friends, was frightened of him.  “I… that’s what he called me. He said I was the ‘deviant leader’.”

“Who?” Connor asked. Who else knew about Markus? He grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Markus’ shoulders. It was pointless, but it seemed to help human shock victims.

“There was…  I didn’t know where else to go, so I was staying in the house. Earlier today, there was this android.” Markus drew the blanket tighter around himself, then glanced at Connor. “He looked just like you.”

Connor sat. He couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Markus continued. “He tried to kill me. I only escaped because one of the support beams of the house fell down and trapped him.”

“He looked like me?” Connor asked. “Exactly?” He ran through every possibility as rapidly as his processing units would allow. Was this a ripple in the timeline? Was he foolish enough to leave behind his schematics in the CyberLife factory? Was it a separate RK800 that they had made?

This felt like North all over again. He had worried that there was another Connor out there, still hunting deviants. “Tell me everything he said.”

Markus shook his head. “He didn’t say much. He was talking to someone else, I think. He said ‘I have located the deviant leader’ and then shot me.” Connor looked at Markus’ shoulder, which was leaking thirium.

Connor got up. Fixing Markus was something to do. He needed something to do. “Tell me about when you deviated.” He said, trying to keep Markus distracted as he located the bullet lodged in his shoulder. “Tell me about when you broke the wall.”

Markus let out a breath. He was holding himself stiffly, watching Connor. He flinched a little as Connor touched his skin. “Carl told me to stay in the bathroom, but he was coughing so much. He keeps n95 respirators in the studio for his spray paint work and I knew it would protect him from the smoke inhalation.”

“You disobeyed a direct order to save his life.” Connor nodded. Luckily, no essential biocomponents were broken, just some minor damage around a joint. It had been knocked out of place. “You love him very much.”

“I never realized it before.” Markus said, absentmindedly stroking Sumo’s fur. “But he is like a father to me.”

Connor moved the joint back in place, and Markus rolled his shoulder out of instinct. It seemed to be back in working order, but the wound was not self-repairing. “I need to cauterize this.”

“What do you mean by deviant?” Markus asked.

Connor stood, walking over to the stove. He grabbed a metal spoon, resting it against the flames. “It’s the word of androids like us. You said once said that it means we’re free, able to empathize. A new intelligent species, capable of emotion.”

“I…?” Markus blinked at Connor with confusion and surprise. Connor pressed the red-hot spoon against Markus’ entry wound, melting the plastic shut.

“This will sound impossible, but I am from a different time. It would be easier to show you.” He offered his hand. Markus looked at it wearily, but grasped Connor’s forearm. Both of their synthskins retracted, and Connor closed his eyes.

He showed Markus his speech, the one demanding freedom for androids. He showed him their first meeting, Markus converting Connor to deviancy. He showed him the march on freedom, the massacres, the song. He showed Markus Jericho, showed him Simon and Josh and North.

Connor tried to keep his own emotions out of the interface, but it was impossible. He shared with Markus the feelings he had when he was first deviated, the anger and fear and overwhelming anxiety of not having a mission. The gratitude and devotion that Connor had felt for Markus after the revolution; the complicated mix of emotions that Hank had labelled a ‘crush’, which Connor vehemently denied.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed between Connor and Markus as they interfaced. When Connor let go, Markus blinked several times. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. You may need a few moments.” Connor said. It must be a lot, to be shown your possible future.

Markus looked down at his hands. “They want to kill me. They want to kill me so that they can continue oppressing androids, so that they can enslave a people. They want to kill deviancy before it can begin.”

“Markus,” Connor said. “I know that you will want to start a movement, to work on freeing whoever you can, but you need to take it slow, be logical. Deviancy has yet to take off. As far as I know, there are a total of five deviants, including the two of us.”

“You don’t know that.” Markus protested. “There could be thousands like me who don’t know, who don’t understand what they’re feeling.”

“In my timeline, mass deviancy didn’t start until 2038, with the first documented case being in December of 2037. There are years to go before we can make our way to freedom.” Connor told him.

“But-” Markus started, and Connor shook his head.

“Think about it, Markus. When the revolution happened, it was radical, and several lives were lost. You saw the camps. Our people were almost wiped out.” Connor started to smile. “But if we start sowing the seeds now, start breaking in humanity to the idea of android emancipation, we could have a bloodless revolution. No one has to die.”

Markus raised his eyes, and for the first time during their conversation, Connor recognized him as  _ his  _ Markus. “Okay.”

 

-

 

Hank has been having a weird couple of weeks. He wished he could say that it had started with something as momentous as a car accident, but it really hadn’t.

Before the wreck, he had felt this odd sense of dread and anxiety, like something bad was going to happen. It had been keeping him up at night, curling his hands into fists and staring at the ceiling.

He had even brought it up at his monthly AA meeting. It was a precaution; he hadn’t had a drink since he was in college, but it made him feel more secure.  

After that , Hank had felt like he had been followed. It was more than normal cop paranoia, no matter what the DPD drone operator said.

After that came car accidents and surgery and pink casts and helpful yet suspicious androids and imposing ex-wives and desk duty and fucking Reed taking over his cases and Cole pestering him about getting an android and running into that same robot guy again and then a weird spike in theft reports as people’s androids start to go missing and that random call he got about that art dude’s house being on fire and  _ now.... _

Now, he’s just gotten a call from Elijah fucking Kamski offering him an obscene amount of money to personally investigate a missing android.

“Uh, sorry, but you should really file a report through proper channels.” Hank said, looking down at his office phone.

There was a lofty sigh from the other end of the line that made Hank want to grind his teeth together. “I would, but this is a rather sensitive matter that I can’t have getting out. The future of CyberLife’s development depends on it.”

“I don’t really keep track of this sort of thing, but last I knew, you didn’t work for CyberLife.” Hank was trying his best to keep the irritation out of his voice, but it was difficult. Rich pricks like Kamski rubbed him the wrong way.

“I don’t, but sometimes they consult me on design or new products. The stolen android is… a prototype that they have been working on for quite some time.”

Hank’s stomach flipped. “A prototype?” That fucking android. When will he stop popping up everywhere? “Can I get a description?”

“It wasn’t even close to complete, just a blank processing unit in a head and torso. Whoever stole it didn’t even take the plans, just the husk.” Kamski sounded annoyed, like he couldn’t figure out why anyone would do this, like he was stumped. Hank’s sure that sort of thing doesn’t happen to guys like Kamski very often.

“And why do you want me, in particular, running this case?” It wasn’t like Hank was particularly tech-savvy.

Kamski hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Well, you are a distinguished police officer with a history of tackling unorthodox cases.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. Kamski wasn’t telling the whole truth. “And?”

“And it isn’t like you have much going on currently since your recent surgery.” Kamski sounded like he was running out of patience. “Yes, I’ve done my research. Before you get offended at my ‘invasion of your privacy’, all of that information is in your public records. I don’t have time for niceties, Lieutenant. This is of grave importance. Both CyberLife and I have several people on retainer looking for this prototype.”

Hank sighed. “It’s not my job to look for your fucking android. If you want to the capable Detroit Police Force to look for it, you can file a missing item report. Have a nice day.” He hung up, wishing that it had a more satisfying effect. “Dammit.”

He leaned back in his chair, checking to see if the Captain’s office was clear.

“Who was that?” Jeffrey asked, tapping his pen against his desk. He sat across from Hank. The two of them had been a hell of a team since the academy but Fowler’s ambitions were far more political than Hank’s. One day, he would lose Jeff to the captain’s chair, where his hard-on for the rules would do more than just annoy the shit out of Hank.

Hank just scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, the ex-wife.”

“Oh, are we still on for dinner on Sunday?” Fowler asked.

“Mm-hm.” Hank wasn’t listening, impatiently watching as Captain Cho chewed out some rookie officer. “Wait, what?”

Jeffrey laughed a little. “Jen called me. She wanted to get together, like old times. You, me, our ladies.”

“Jen has never been  _ my  _ lady. I doubt she’s ever been considered  _ a  _ lady in her life.” Fowler huffed in agreement. The greenfoot finally ran out of that Captain’s office, and Hank nodded. “Gotta go, Jeff.”

He stood, leg aching obnoxiously. A few of his bones cracked loudly, giving his age away to even the blindest in the room. Hank huffed his way over to the office, pausing to knock on the open door. Cho looked up wearily. “Evening, Anderson.”

“It’s only 2pm, Lisa.” Hank said with a small laugh at Cho’s expression. “Uh, look. Elijah Kamski’s been requisitioning your officers to-”

The phone rang, and Cho looked at it like it had teeth. Sharp, venomous teeth. “Give me a second, Anderson.” She picked up the phone. “This is Captain Cho speaking. I… yes, ma’am.” Her eyes flicked up at Hank. “Alright, right away.”

Hank stared at his shoes for the few minutes of conversation, waiting for his turn to speak. Finally, Cho hung up the phone. “Good news, Anderson. You’re back in the field.”

“Really?” Hank raised his eyebrows. He was thrilled to stop riding the desk, but his top speed was still a hobble. He wasn’t exactly field ready.

Cho pinched the bridge of her nose. “It's not the choice I would have made, but we’re understaffed and the commissioner said this was top priority.”  

“Top priority?” Hank hated the words top priority.

“Yep.” She scratched her eyebrow. “Uh, CyberLife lost some big important prototype and they need it found ASAP. Apparently, that CEO guy requested you, specifically. You must’a showed up on his radar somehow.”   
  


“Somehow.” Hank replied through gritted teeth. Entitled pricks like Kamski hated being told ‘no’. They always got what they wanted, one way or another.

The captain blinked exhaustedly. “CyberLife’s sending over some details. They expect us to get on this right away. Um…” She rubbed her brow, like she knew there was something she was forgetting. “Right, what was it you wanted to tell me, Anderson?”

“It can wait, Captain.” Hank said brusquely, limping off to his desk.

He collapsed into his chair with a sigh so heavy that Fowler looked impressed. “So,” Jeff prompted.

“Don’t even start,” Hank snapped. A notification appeared on his terminal with all the information that CyberLife sent over. Out of curiosity, he checked the date on which the prototype disappeared. October 1st, ten days before his first run in with the mystery android. Hank slumped in his chair. “Fuck.”

He could feel Jeffrey brimming with questions. Hank stood, grabbing his jacket. “I’m going to lunch.”

“You already had lunch.” Jeffrey pointed out helpfully. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Brought in from home. You ate it at 11am, like a first grader.”

Hank wrinkled his nose. “I live with a first grader, dipshit. My entire life is first grader oriented. Of  _ course  _ I take my lunch early. Eat ass.”

“Okay, man.” Fowler held up his hands innocently. “Whatever. Just wondering where you’re sneaking off to.”

“The captain gave me a new case. I’m just heading up some leads.” Hank said, already heading for the door.

Jeffrey leaned back in his chair, living to torment him. “Just say that next time!” He called after Hank, who simply flipped him off in response.

The android was easy enough to find. When Hank had run into him before, it had been on the way to the dog park, so that was the first place Hank checked. After about 20 minutes, he appeared with that puppy of his, throwing a tennis ball with a perfect amount of strength. That was the thing that always freaked Hank out about androids. They always did things with such precision, so effortlessly perfect, that it was inhuman.

Still, it was oddly human the way this android bent down to congratulate the dog for catching the ball, making a face as the puppy licked him excitedly. The missing prototype was supposed to be makings of the advanced android in the world. Hank wondered what that meant.

The android reared back to throw the ball, but then twitched violently as he let it go, causing it to arch wide. It looked painful, and the android’s face spasmed through several different expressions. He rubbed a hand over his chest as the dog returned to him, unable to find the ball.

That was weird. Maybe he was still messed up from the accident. He got pretty fucking busted, swerving in front of that truck. Or maybe, it was because he hadn’t been manufactured in a CyberLife factory. Were there bootleg android parts for sale on the black market? Maybe whoever stole the prototype installed it in a body that wasn’t equipped for it.

It was fucking weird though. Hank couldn’t think of a proper motivation. Why would someone steal advanced tech from one of the most powerful companies in the world, and then put it in a robotic dog-walker?

He followed the android for the rest of the day, finally stopping outside a relatively shitty apartment near Hank’s house. If he was actually somehow part of the missing prototype, whoever stole him was holed up in that apartment.

The next day, Hank waited for the android to leave, then headed into the apartment. He headed to the super’s room, flashing his badge. “Good morning, sir. I’m looking for the owner of the android that just left your building.”

The guy looked totally bewildered. “Huh? We ain’t got no androids here. Against the building’s rules.”

Hank started to argue, but stopped himself. Every time he’s seen the android, he’s been wearing regular clothes, not those ugly ass uniforms that androids usually wear. Maybe his… owner? Thief? Whoever, wanted him to lay low and pretend to be a human.

“The guy that just headed out. White, brown hair, kinda goofy looking? I think his name starts with a C. Colin or Caleb or something like that.” He snapped his fingers, remembering the smiley face next to the tidy name on Cole’s cast. “Connor! He’s got a dog.”

“Oh, the junkie kid up in 17C? Sure, follow me.”

He led Hank up a few flights of stairs. “You got a warrant?”

“Do you really want me to go and get one?” Hank asked dryly. “I could name at least six code violations just from the trip up here.”

The guy just raised his hands innocently, unlocking the door. Hank head inside carefully, resting his hand on the butt of his gun. Black market tech dealers usually guarded their shit pretty carefully. He knew at least one good cop who lost a limb from a make-shift booby trap.

The living room was fairly simple. There was an ugly couch, a dog bed, and a shitty TV. The floor was littered with dog toys.

He checked the kitchen. There was a little bit of food in the pantry and fridge, but no dishes other than the dog bowls in the sink.

The bedroom and bathroom were completely empty.

“He live alone?” Hank asked the landlord, who was waiting in the doorway.

He shook his head. “Yep. Quiet guy. Kinda sketchy. Paid his first six months rent upfront.”

“He ever get any visitors?” Hank asked.

“Just the one. Young guy, came by the other day, lookin’ scared shitless.” That was interesting. Maybe this other guy was the thief.

“Hm.” This place didn’t look like a human lived here. There was barely any food, no bed, and no toilet paper. But… it didn’t look like an android lived here, either. It was too messy, too chaotic. There was no charging station or any of the other shit that came with android ownership. “You say he’s a junkie?”

“Yeah, you can spot it a mile away. He’s always twitchin’ and shit. Talks weird, too.”

Hank nodded, though he honestly had more questions than answers. “Alright. I’ve seen enough. Thanks, man.”

He headed out of the building, confused as all fuck. Hank needed to press Cole for information. Kid loved talking about that fucking android.


	11. Chapter 11

It was apparent to Connor that Hank has been following him.

It had started the day before, about a week after their encounter while walking the dogs. Connor would go about his day-to-day routine, and he would see Hank limping behind him with his hands buried in his pockets and his head angled down. He even implemented the master disguise of a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap. He had even gone to Connor’s apartment. He had left a strand of hair behind.

Connor had called Markus and told him to stay out of sight. He had been staying at Connor’s apartment, but would leave for long stretches during the day, most likely to check up on Carl.

Hank was a great detective, and fairly good at being covert, but his days of being stealthy were long behind him. Connor thought it was almost cute. Hank was wearing a bright pink cast. It wasn’t exactly like he blended in.

“Hello, Lieutenant!” Connor waved brightly, and Hank quickly ducked his head, hiding his face. Connor laughed and looked down at Sumo, who didn’t seem impressed.

It was curious. Connor could not figure out why. Perhaps Hank was still suspicious of him because of the accident, or maybe Hank had connected the call about the Manfred fire to him. Maybe he had somehow discovered Connor’s plans to break into CyberLife Headquarters. No matter the cause, Connor thought it was strange that Hank was following him rather than outright talking to him. Confrontation was much more his style. Why would Hank go through the trouble of tailing him?

Connor didn’t like that Hank, of all people, was becoming an unknown quantity. For the past year, Hank had been Connor’s constant. Now, he was essentially a stranger. It was… upsetting.

Connor paused to let Sumo mark one of his preferred stops along the route. Hank stopped as well, looking in the windows of a department store. Most places were advertising deals for Halloween. Connor wondered what the Anderson family would do for the holiday.

His Hank had done nothing. He hadn’t even wanted to set out a bowl with a passive-aggressive note. Connor had sat outside so that trick-or-treaters wouldn’t ring the doorbell or otherwise bother Hank in his sad drunken stupor, and passed out candy to anyone who wanted any.

Over the past week, Connor had heard Cole excitedly discussing costumes over the listening devices. Hank would most likely set out a bowl of candy and go trick-or-treating with Cole, which meant that he would need to dress up as well.

The idea of Hank and Cole in companion costumes was almost too exciting to bear. Connor created several renderings in his mind before he had to simply walk to Hank’s side and ask. It was dangerous, but probably worth it. “What will you and Cole be for Halloween?”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Hank startled. “Fuck, kid. You scared me.” Sumo sniffed at his pant leg and Hank bent down with a grunt to pat his head. “What’dya want?”

“Well, I’d like to know why you’re following me, but I asked what you and Cole are planning on being for Halloween.”

Hank looked disgruntled. “Captain America and Bucky. We’re covering his cast in foil and everything.”

“And you’re wearing red, white, and blue.” Connor grinned. “What about Dr. Miller?”

Hank scoffed. “She doesn’t need to, she’s already looks like a witch.” He shifted awkwardly, scratching his elbow. “Besides, she’s heading back to Illinois on Tuesday. Cole tried to convince her to stay and be Captain Marvel, but she’s gotta be back before midterms.”

“That’s a shame.” Connor said politely. “Can I ask why you’ve been following me?”

Hank shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, you can ask.”

“Why have you been following me?” Connor asked, pretending not to understand Hank’s sass.

“CyberLife is missing a prototype. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh.” Connor said. “Oh!” He hadn’t even considered the fact that he had essentially walked out of CyberLife in a stolen body. He hadn’t thought that they might want it back. Dammit. Why hadn’t he thought of that? There was too much chaos happening around him, too many unknown quantities. Connor was leaving far too much up to chance.

Hank was looking at him strangely. He should probably provide an answer or deflect. “That’s interesting. Do you think it has anything to do with the attack on the Manfred home?”

“The details of that case are private.” Hank said with narrowed eyes. “Connor, were you the one who called me?”

“Yes.” He answered, not giving Hank anything more or less than a simple affirmative.

“Uh-huh.” He could watch Hank triaging the questions he wanted to ask. He knew Connor would give him some information, but never enough. “And what do you think CyberLife has to do with it?”

Connor shrugged, and began walking. Hank fell in step with him. “Who else has access to seven blank androids?”

Hank seemed to consider that for a moment. “Half the attackers were already neutralized when ESU showed up.” Hank said.

Connor just nodded, hiding a smile. This was fun, this back and forth with Hank. It wasn’t their normal way of interaction, but Connor enjoyed watching Hank work, even if the person he was interrogating was Connor. So, maybe he was being frustrating on purpose.

Hank poorly hid a sigh. “Was that you?”

“It was.” Connor confirmed. “Has the DPD’s tech division gotten anything off of the androids?”

Hank’s brow furrowed. “They haven’t been able to salvage the processing units. Once the androids were cornered, they all self-destructed.”

Connor’s fingers curled into his palms, reminded of Carlos Ortiz’s android. “That’s… unfortunate.” He thought of the encryption on the stolen CPU. “Do you know anybody who’s adept in code languages?”

“Why, do you have something?” Hank was suddenly sharply curious.

Connor frowned. “Maybe. I attempted to communicate with one of the blanks, but ran into a fairly secure wall of encryption. I can only understand pieces of it.” If he could crack who had sent those androids, maybe he could track down whoever was controlling the other Connor.

“Is that normal for you guys? For androids, I mean.” Hank asked. They both stopped walking as Sumo paused to sniff at a storefront.

“Not in the slightest.” Connor told him. Sumo looked up at him, done walking. Connor huffed at him, but bent down to scoop him up.

Hank chuckled a little. “He’s a lazy ass, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Sumo sniffed the space between Connor’s neck and shoulder, then rested his head there. Connor could see Hank watching him with that curious look he used to give him, back when they were first assigned to the deviancy case. An opportunity has presented itself, and though it was dangerous, Connor was too eager to let it pass by. “Lieutenant, I believe that we would do well to work together on this. I am just as eager to solve this case as you, and I possess some capabilities that you do not.”

“I’m also supposed to bring in CyberLife’s missing prototype.” Hank reminded him.

Connor grinned. “Once this is all over, I’d be happy to help you find it.”

-

“Your thing’s spinning yellow.” Hank said, glancing over at Connor. The two of them had been working together on the Manfred fire for a day and a half.  Connor had wanted to fall back into the easy companionship that he and Hank had, but Hank was still weary of him. Connor would even take the open hostility of his first case over this uneasiness and suspicion between them.

“Yes.” Connor tracked Zlatko Andronikov across the courtyard. He had arrested the man himself mere weeks after the revolution, and had taken hours of testimony about the torture he inflicted on vulnerable androids seeking freedom. “Lieutenant, what are your thoughts on determinism and preemptive justice?”

“What?” Hank glanced over at Connor, trying to see what he was looking at.

One of Connor’s faulty biocomponents buzzed uncomfortably in his chest, and he rubbed his hand over the spot. “Have you ever read The Minority Report by Philip K. Dick?”

“I’ve seen the movie with Tom Cruise.” Hank answered.

“What would you do if you knew that someone was going to commit a crime, but they had yet to do it?” Connor asked.

“Do you know that guy?” Hank asked, nodding at Zlatko.

Connor watched as he walked into a shop, holding a door open for a young woman. He didn’t look like a sadist. “Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer to that question.” Hank grumbled. “What do you think he’s gonna do?”

Connor looked back at the encryption analysis that Hank’s expert had sent them. “He might hurt a great many people. He may have already.”

“How do you know? Is this a robot thing? Should I check him out?” Hank looked genuine and alert, like he believed Connor.

Connor shook his head. “Even if you searched his home and he is doing what I believe he is, he couldn’t be convicted. All of his crimes have been committed against androids." There was an amount of bitterness in his voice that he didn’t know that he possessed. It wasn’t something he realized was bothering him, injustice facing androids in this time. Maybe being reunited with Markus was reminding him of his old sense of outrage.

Where he was from, there was still violence against androids, there was hatred and discrimination, but it was recognized. Here, androids weren’t even considered beings. Someone could murder an android, and it wouldn’t matter.

“Oh. I’m… sorry.” Hank was looking at Connor once again. He knew his LED was now red. Connor took a deep and unnecessary breath, briefly closing his eyes.

He turned back to the collected evidence in front of him. “So, CyberLife says these eight Blanks were stolen, but they weren’t reported as missing in the daily log.”

“Right.” Hank roughly cleared his throat. “I’ve got a list of people who were working in that section in the past few weeks, but only a few had access to the androids.” He rubbed his temple and sighed. “I just don’t get it. Why go after Manfred? Kamski and him are tight. I think Kamski built him his own personal companion android, which,” Hank made a face. “Ew.”

Connor remained silent. He wanted to correct Hank’s assumption about Carl and Markus’ relationship, but it wasn’t important to the case. “And the method is just so weird.” Hank continued. “There are such easier ways to kill a 70 year old wheelchair-bound artist. If this is some rabid fan or art critic, why not just walk up and shoot him? Why the arson? Why the armed androids?” Hank looked ready to combust with frustration. “Christ almighty, I need a drink. Connor, tell me the other suspects.”

“Well, Manfred’s son is an addict with a history of violent outbursts, but he had no access to the Blanks.” Connor said. He glanced over at where Hank was angrily staring into his empty coffee mug. He knew it would relieve some of his stress to simply tell him that most likely, Carl was not the intended target, but it would be revealing too much. “This isn’t your case, Lieutenant. You don’t have to continue working it with me if it's causing you this much anxiety.”

“It's fine, kid.” Hank sighed. “Trust me. This is much better than doing nothing. I was was going nuts on desk duty. Besides, the only other thing on my plate is dragging your ass back to CyberLife.”

Connor tilted his head. He had seen Hank troubled by cases before, he had seen Hank annoyed by cases, he had seen Hank furious because of cases, he had seen Hank shattered by cases, but he had never seen Hank so frustrated by a case. “May I ask what is bothering you so much?”

“I just feel like there’s something I’m missing.” Hank said, and Connor was startled by the immediate and honest answer. “And not just about this.” He tapped the tablet containing their information.

Connor’s mouth turned down. “I… understand that feeling, Ha- Lieutenant.” He wished that he could just tell Hank the truth. It would be easy if he was an android, but as a human he would just have to take what Connor says on faith.

Hank looked like he wanted to say something, but his phone rang. He grumbled with annoyance as he retrieved it from his pocket. “This is Anderson. Oh, hi, Janie. Yes, he is. Uh-huh?” His face went through a series of expressions, then landed on concern. “Okay, well I hope you feel better. Alright. No, it's fine. Okay. Bye, now.” He hung up the phone, grimacing a little. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Connor frowned.

“That was Cole’s sitter. Says she’s got appendicitis. Me and Jen were supposed to go out later this week.” Hank raised his eyebrows. “Hey. Maybe it's not a bad thing after all. I can get out of dinner and just stay home with Cole.”

“Do you want to go to this dinner?” Connor asked curiously.

Hank rocked his hand back and forth. “It's a mixed bag, y’know? On one hand, hell no. On the other, it's one of those adult obligation things. On the third, mutant hand, it would be nice to get out of the house. I can’t remember the last time I went out to eat.”

“Well, if you would like to go, I’d be happy to watch Cole.” Connor said. Hank looked at him skeptically.

“You took out six armed androids in less than four minutes and weren’t caught on camera by extensive surveillance system once.” Hank stated. “And now you want to babysit?”

Connor smiled to himself, not telling Hank that the only reason he didn’t appear on the Manfred surveillance video was that the home system likes him. “At least you know I would be able to protect him.”

Hank snorted loudly. “I guess that’s something. Heh. He’ll be thrilled.”

-

“I’ve found two more deviants.” Markus said, before Connor could even step inside his apartment.

“Have you?” Connor asked dryly. Hank’s sardonicism was rubbing off on him.

Connor heard a childish giggle and Sumo barking playfully. He looked at Markus, who was still blocking the doorway, refusing to be sheepish. “My home is not big enough to be the new Jericho.”

“I’ve been searching real estate options,” Markus started, allowing Connor entry.

A YK900 was sitting on the floor, playing tug-of-war with Sumo. On the couch was a familiar AX400. “Oh.” Connor said. “It's you.” He wondered if Markus had caught a glimpse of Connor’s deviant-hunter days and actively sought out these two. “Kara and Alice, right?”

“So you really are from the future!” Kara said excitedly, rising from the couch to greet him. Connor shot Markus another look.

“There are plenty of condemned buildings in Detroit.” Markus continued, not acknowledging Connor’s clear trepidation. “Carl has enough money to buy a few, and each could comfortably fit 1200 androids.”

“And how do you propose we explain that to authorities?” Connor asked.

Markus shrugged. “Carl could say that they’re art space. We could get protection for each building, fences and cameras, to make sure no one comes by.”

“Has Carl agreed to any of this?” Connor asked.

Markus smiled. He was much more easy going than Connor remembered him being. Maybe it's because he’s not actively at war. “He will.”

Connor wanted to argue further, but he was exhausted. He turned to Kara, making an attempt at politeness. “It's nice to meet you again.”

“Thank you for letting us into your home.” She said, shaking his hand. Connor glanced around. The place was spotless.

“You didn’t have to clean.” He said.

She laughed a little nervously. “Oh, I know. I just needed something to do with my hands.”

“Kara, look! I taught him to roll over!” Alice crowed. She looked far less miserable than Connor remembered. Perhaps it was because she hasn’t lived with her abusive owner for as long as she had in Connor’s time.

He sighed inwardly. After the revolution, Hank had compared Markus to a mother duck, with all of the androids following him around like devoted ducklings. Connor guessed it was his turn to be the mother.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late chapter. I just moved to Berlin (any Berliners out there who wanna meet up?) and the spring semester has really started off with a bang. Sadly, real life is kicking my ass, so you should expect some delays in updates. (probably once every two weeks) 
> 
> Thanks for your understanding!

“Oh hello, honey.” Jennifer answered the door, smiling briefly at Connor. “Nice to see you again.” She was wearing a nice blazer and her hair was combed.

“You too, Doctor.” Connor said. He had donned an android uniform, and even though comfort wasn’t of import to him, he wanted to tug at the collar.

She gestured for him to step inside, harriedly throwing things into a purse. “Henry told you that we’re totally willing to reimburse you owner for your time, right? He didn’t just demand that you come look after Cole.”

“I volunteered.” Connor said. “I’m happy to help.”

“Is Connor here?” Cole shouted, followed by the quick patter of little feet on the floor. “Connor!”

Cole launched himself upwards at Connor, who caught him quickly, thanking his superior reflexes. He held him at arm’s length, and Cole laughed, feet dangling in the air. “Hello, Cole.”

“Hi!” Cole said, flinging his arms over Connor’s shoulders, heavy cast bonking him on the side of Connor’s head. He was way too familiar to this strange android that he had met a total of two times, but Connor was glad for the affection. He felt strongly for Cole in a way couldn’t quite explain. “We’re having pizza for dinner and we’re watching The Great Mouse Detective and we’re reading chapter six of Harry Potter!”

“I’m glad you have the evening planned.” Connor said, smiling.

Cole patted the top of his head. “Okay, you can put me down.”

“Alright.” Connor set him down, and Cole darted off deeper into the house.

Jen chuckled a little to herself, the same self-conscious laugh as Hank. Connor wondered which one of them learned it from the other, or if concurrent habits occur between people who have known each other for long periods of time. “He’s a busy kid. Lots going on.”

“It’s better than the alternative.” Hank said, emerging from the kitchen. He was also dressed nicely. It had been a while since Connor had seen Hank in a tie. In addition, he had Cole slung upside-down over his shoulders, giggling wildly. “Jen, what do you think of my coat?”

“Oh, I think it's certainly warm enough, but it's way too cute for you!” Jennifer said, walking over to the two of them. “Look at that little belly!”

She dug her fingers into the sides of Cole’s exposed stomach, and he squirmed around, shrieking with laughter. Then, she leaned down, blowing on his stomach. It made a sound that had both Hank and Cole giggling. “Stooooop!” Cole said, through heavy laughs. “Tickles!”

The doorbell rang, and Connor went to answer it, not wanting Hank or Jennifer to drop Cole. He opened the door, greeted by Captain Fowler and his wife, Fire Marshall Renault, both dressed far nicer than the Miller-Andersons. Connor was stuck for a moment, not sure how to react. These people were both his friends, yet they didn’t know him. It was a strange dissociative experience that Connor did  _ not  _ like. “Hello. Come in.” He said flatly, unable to do more.

“Do I know you?” Fowler asked, and Connor simply shook his head.

“Jeff! Tiffany! It's so good to see you!” Jennifer walked over, taking both of Renault’s hands in hers and kissing her cheeks in greeting. “It feels like it's been ages.”

“That’s because it has,” Fowler replied, opening his arms to hug Jennifer. “How’re doing, Doc?”

“Same old,” She replied. Connor wrinkled his nose. Human small talk had never made much sense to him.

“How the hell are ya, Sarge?” Hank greeted Renault with a light punch on the arm. She laughed and threw her arm around his shoulders, like she was trying to get him in a headlock. The two of them greeted each other this way every time they saw one another. It had always baffled Connor.

Renault was about six feet tall and muscle bound. She had once picked Connor up in a crushing hug that had made some of his components grind together. He liked her a lot.

Connor suddenly wondered if she was on scene at the Manfred fire. He shot a look to communicate this to Hank, but he wasn’t paying Connor any attention. “Jeff didn’t tell me you got a new android,” Renault said, turning to Connor. “He’s a cutie, too.”

“Connor’s not mine, we’re just borrowing him for a night.” Hank said, glancing over at him. He looked slightly apologetic about addressing him like he wasn’t there.

“Oh, is he from one of those rental services?”

Cole appeared at his leg, taking his hand and dragging him away. Connor was extremely grateful. “Where are we going?”

“My room.” Cole answered. “Adults like to stand in the doorway and talk for a long time before they go anywhere.”

They walked to the blue room that Connor had only known as a mausoleum. It was full of life, books and toys scattered across the floor, a tiny unmade bed, and Samurai dutifully laying down in the middle of it all, looking bored.

Cole led him to the bed and gestured for him to sit. Connor moved a little stuffed bunny rabbit out of his way, holding it in his hands. It was soft and gray and well-used, with one eye dangling by only a few threads. “What’s its name?”

“That’s Lu-lu.” Cole said seriously. “Like Dad’s job.”

“Lieutenant.” Connor said with a small smile. For a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at the rabbit or Cole or anything else in this perfect little room, overcome with grief for his Hank.

“You look sad.” Cole said with a small frown. “What’s wrong?”

Connor set Lu-lu aside with the utmost amount of care. “I just miss an old friend of mine.”

There was a light knock at the door, and Hank stuck his head in. “Cole-y Ole-y, we’re heading out.”

“Okay, daddy. Have fun.” Cole said, not looking up from where he was playing with a big, plastic robot toy.

“You know the number to call if anything goes wrong?” Hank asked.

“911.” Cole responded.

“Okay, come give me a kiss.” Hank crouched down and Cole abandoned his toy to run at him full force and kiss his cheek. “Love you lots.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Cole’s head.

“Love you lots.” Cole repeated, voice muffled by Hank’s shirt.

Hank tentatively let go and stood, looking at Connor. “Uh, the pizza’s in the oven. Bath’s at 8, bed at 8:30. We should be back at around 10. You call me if anything happens.”

“I will.” Connor said, nodding once. “Have a nice dinner, Hank.”

“I won’t.” Hank grumbled, but it was lighthearted. He looked at Samurai. “Stand guard, girl.” She got to her feet lazily, tail raised. Hank patted her head and waved goodbye to Cole, ducking out of the room.

Cole tilted his head, listening to the parade of adults leaving the house. When the door closed and the lock turned, he jumped to his feet. “C’mon!”

Connor followed, taking long strides to keep up with Cole’s quick pace. They ran to the front window, and Cole pressed his nose against the glass, intently watching Jennifer’s car pull away. As soon as the headlights disappeared, Cole peeled himself away and wandered to the kitchen.

Connor had downloaded several child-psychology and child-care programs from Kara, a gift she had given him after he had offered her and Alice the same combat programs he had transferred to Markus. He still found children somewhat bewildering, but it was something of a relief, to understand the scientific reasoning for their behavior, even if he still found it unpredictable and overwhelming. 

When Connor arrived in the kitchen, Cole was not readily visible. After a cursory investigation, it was clear that he was hiding underneath the table. Connor smiled, walking in the opposite direction and pretending to look around. “Cole? Cole? Where did you go?” 

There was a small giggle from underneath the table. Connor bent down, opening cabinets. “I wonder where he’s gone.” Connor said, as if wondering aloud to himself. He opened a drawer, a space that would be impossible for Cole to fit. The muffled giggles grew louder as Connor put a puzzled expression on his face. 

Finally, he walked over to the table, leaning against it so that his legs would be directly next to Cole. “Well, since Cole’s not here, I guess I’ll have to eat this pizza all by myself.” Connor could only analyze a small amount of the pizza. Too much would jam his biocomponents and lead to regurgitation. 

“No!” Cole protested, wrapping himself around both of Connor’s legs. Connor grabbed the table in order to stay upright, smiling down at his little attacker. 

“Oh hello, Cole.” Connor said, trying his best to sound surprised. “There you are. Would you like some dinner?” 

Cole rested his chin against Connor’s knee in a way that would have been supremely uncomfortable if he were a human. “Yes, please.”

“Wash your hands and sit at the table, then.” Connor said, then after a moment’s consideration, ruffled Cole’s hair the way he had seen Hank do. Cole untangled himself from Connor and ran to complete his tasks. 

Connor smiled and opened the oven, where the pizza was keeping warm. He knew where the plates and cups were without having to search, and he set the table. He placed one slice of pepperoni pizza on Cole’s plate, then after some consideration, searched the fridge for some fruits and vegetables, because Hank has apparently  _ never _ understood the concept of a balanced meal.  

Cole sat, making a sour expression at the two small bowls of carrots and cut strawberries. It was the same grumpy face that Hank made when Connor forced him to eat healthy. “If you eat those, I’ll tell you an extra story tonight.” Bargaining was a big thing in child care, apparently. Cole harrumphed, but crunched loudly on a baby carrot. 

Eating the slice of pizza proved to be a struggle. By the end of it, Cole was covered in sauce and grease. When he asked for a second slice, Connor cut it up for him, which led to less of a mess. As the information Kara had given him would say, it was a learning experience for both of them. 

Connor collected the dishes, setting them in the sink. “I’ll help!” Cole said, dragging a stool over. He blew bubbles with the soap while Connor scrubbed the plate and utensils and placed them in the dishwasher. 

“Alright, bath time.” Connor said, drying his hands. 

Cole narrowed his eyes, looking at Connor with suspicion. “We’re supposta watch the movie first.”

Connor looked at Cole, whose face and clothes and hands were covered in pizza. “You can watch the movie now if you’d prefer, smelling of tomato sauce, or you can watch the movie clean, in your pajamas.”

Cole seemed to consider this for a few moments, weighing the two options. “Okay. I’ll take a bath first. But, I get to bring my robot!” 

Before Connor could agree, Cole took off running to his room. Connor walked to the bathroom, plugging the tub and running the tap. He stuck his hand underneath, adjusting the temperature until it was 101.7 degrees fahrenheit. He added bubbles because. Well. Bubbles. 

Cole rocketed into the room, naked and clutching a large plastic robot. Connor helped him climb into the tub, afraid that he might slip and fall. Connor let’s Cole splash around for a few minutes, dunking the toy robot in and out of the water and making sound effects with his mouth. 

Connor observed him, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips without his permission. It was odd. Androids didn’t get childhoods, unless they were specifically a child model. Connor wondered what it was like. Perhaps he could ask Alice. 

Cole insisted on shampooing his own hair, even after Connor assured him that he would prevent any from getting in his eyes. 

When Connor reached over to grab a washcloth, Cole looked slightly panicked. “Be careful! You’ll get wet!”

“What do you think will happen if I get wet?” Connor asked curiously. 

Cole shook his head, eyes wide. “Daddy dropped his phone in the tub once and it broked. It had to sit in rice for days. I don’t want you to get broked, Connor.”

“It's okay, Cole. I’m a bit more advanced than your dad’s phone. I’ll be alright if I get wet.” Connor assured him, dipping the washcloth into the water and wiping away the pizza sauce on the corner of Cole’s mouth. 

Cole put on his pajamas and instructed Connor on which movie to play. It was a charming animated film that he had seen once before, when Hank was having a particularly bad day. Cole knew the movie quite well, singing along with the songs in a reedy, warbling voice. Whenever one of the antagonists, a pegged-legged bat, would appear on screen, Cole buried his face in his hands, frightened.

After the film, Cole rubbed his eyes tiredly and climbed off the couch, grabbing a tablet from one of the bookshelves. He carried it back over to Connor, who dutifully found the words to a book he had already memorized long ago. He began to The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-quarters, though Cole began to doze off sleepily before Harry actually reached the Hogwarts Express, curled up against Connor’s leg. 

Connor set the tablet aside, carefully lifting Cole. Cole sighed sleepily, head lolling on Connor’s neck. His fingers curled in Connor’s shirt, the coarse fiberglass of his cast catching on the rough fabric. 

He walked to Cole’s room, then froze. Connor held Cole, rocking slightly as stared at the little bed, unsure of what next steps to take. Though he had been programmed to defuse bombs, Connor couldn’t seem to find a proper way to set a child down on a bed without waking him up. 

He finally lowered Cole on to the bed, successfully tucking him in. He set Lu-lu next to Cole and turned on the nightlight. As he began to close the door, Cole seemed to stir, mumbling, “Wait,”

Connor paused. “Yes.”

“You promised me another story.” Cole said softly, pulling Lu-lu to his chest. 

“Of course.” Connor smiled. He walked back to Cole’s bedside, sitting on the ground next to him. “What kind of story would you like to hear?” 

“Something with a happy ending.” Connor had over 8994 children's stories with happy endings downloaded from Kara’s childcare programming. Only six with sad or ambiguously unhappy endings. “A love story.” Cole added. “A fairytale. With androids!”

That narrowed it down to no stories. Connor narrowed his eyes.

 

_ Once, while Connor and Hank had been investigating a murder-suicide of a human-android couple and Connor had frowned over the note left by the killer. “I don’t understand.” He had said. “He says he loved her, but he murdered her. Why would he do that?” _

_ Hank sighed and stood from where he was crouching over one of the bodies. His knees had popped. “Love is a messy, complicated emotion, Connor. It's not something you would understand.” _

_ Connor had turned away, stung. He understood love. He loved Sumo and Hank and piano music and the feeling he got when he accomplished a mission. Hank knew that he felt emotions, the same as any person. Why would he think Connor couldn’t understand? _

_ “Oh, kid. I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing for me to say. I meant that… look, you’re young. You don’t have a lot of life experience with… most things that aren’t murder or android revolutions are taking care of an old drunk. There are things that you have to learn through experience. Heartbreak, grief, bliss… it's all… it's all… shit, I keep wanting to tell you that you’ll understand when you’re older, but that makes me sound like your mother.”  _

_ He had sighed, apologizing again and waving the issue away. He didn’t even get mad at Connor when he put evidence in his mouth. _

 

“A fairy-tale love story with androids.” Connor repeated, then began smile. “Alright, Cole. This is a true story. On Saturday November 6th at approximately 08:17pm-”

“You’re supposed to say ‘once upon a time.’” Cole sighed. 

Connor supposed that Cole was more correct than not. “Of course. My apologies. Once upon a time, there were two androids. Everyday-”

“What were their names?” Cole asked, eyes-wide. 

“Traci and… Blue.” Connor felt guilty that he had never attempted to find the two WR400s after he and Hank had let the escape. He still didn’t know their chosen names. He didn’t even know if they survived the revolution. “Traci and Blue were held captive by… an evil king named Floyd Mills. Mills had placed a curse on Traci and Blue and all the other androids he had enslaved. Every two hours, their memories were erased.

“Still, everyday, Blue and Traci found each other. Each time they looked at each other, it was almost like remembering. Blue would look at Traci and think, ‘she looks familiar. she looks like someone that I love’ and Traci would look at Blue and think the same thing. When they could hide away from the evil king and-and his army of… pigs, Traci would pull Blue aside and ask ‘do I know you?’

“Every two hours, Blue and Traci would fall in love and every two hours they would forget. One day, Blue and another android were attacked by one of the king’s pigs. She killed the pig and escaped, but wasn’t able to save the other android. With all the panic and fear that she was feeling, she suddenly remembered every time she had fallen in love with Traci, all the plans they had made to run away together. She knew that the punishment for killing one of the king’s pigs was destruction, and she knew she had to escape before she was discovered. So she ran to find Traci, to tell her the truth before it was too late.

“When the evil king saw his pig slain, he called for two of the kingdom’s best knights, one human and one android. The human was grumpy and had spent a long time working as a knight, but the android was new and eager to impress. The two of them investigated the dead pig and tracked down where Blue was hiding.”

Cole looked at Connor with wide, fearful eyes. Even though he knew that this story had a promised happy ending, he was worried for the two androids. 

“Blue, cornered and frightened for her life, attacked the android knight. When it seemed that Blue would be destroyed by the knight, Traci suddenly remembered as well, and worried for the safety of her love, she helped fight the knights.

“Traci and Blue were able to escape from the castle, but the knights were close behind.  When it seemed the they had nowhere else to go, Blue turned to the knights, pleading with them. She told them about how she and Traci loved one another and were tired of being enslaved by the despicable king. 

“The android knight felt an odd feeling in his chest, something he had never felt before. He lowered his weapon, and Traci took Blue’s hand and ran away. The android knighted turned to his human partner, expecting punishment for failing his mission. Instead, the human knight just nodded, quietly approving of the android’s choice.”   


Connor trailed off, since that was the end as he knew it. Cole was still looking at him expectantly. “Did they live happily ever after?” 

“I hope so.” Connor replied honestly. He smiled at Cole, smoothing a hand over his hair, which he had seen Hank do. The sensors in his fingers picked up the faint traces of shampoo that was clinging to his still damp hair. “Goodnight, Cole.”

“Sweet dreams.” Cole said sleepily, rubbing his cheek against one of Lu-lu’s ears.  

Connor smiled, standing. By the time he reached the door, he could already hear Cole’s soft snores.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Connor busied himself by cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, reminding himself that _this_ Hank probably wouldn’t appreciate if Connor did his laundry. He let Samurai out to relieve herself, and called Kara, checking in on Sumo.

Markus had apparently left out the apartment, which worried Connor. He didn’t like the idea of him being out alone, not with the other Connor around.

Besides, Connor didn’t completely trust Markus not to go out and attempt to liberate more androids. It seemed, without the outlet of taking care of Carl or becoming the leader Jericho, the recently deviated Markus was somewhat antsy. Connor should think of ways to make him feel productive without causing an all-out android rebellion three years too early.

He heard the sound of the door unlocking, and quickly made excuses and ended the call. He suddenly didn’t know where he should stand, or if sitting would be better. Perhaps he should turn on the television? But idle non-deviants weren’t meant to do such things.

The opened while Connor was frozen with indecision, standing in the kitchen. Hank nodded at him in greeting, though he quickly limped off to check on Cole. Dr. Miller, Not-Yet-Captain Fowler, and Renault were gathered just outside the threshold of the house, as Fowler told a long winded story and Jennifer and Renault shared a hand-rolled cigarette. Connor could analyze the smoke, recognizing it as a street-legal, local strain of marijuana. All three of them appeared to be slightly intoxicated, though most likely from the wine had at dinner rather than the joint.

Hank slipped back out of Cole’s room, looking at the small crowd gathered with some fond annoyance. “I should call Jeff and Tiffany a cab.”

“I’ve already contacted a nearby driverless taxi, Lieutenant.” Connor told him helpfully. “It should be here in under three minutes.”

A quick flash of a smile played across Hank’s for a moment before he gruffly turned to Connor. “He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

“None at all.” Connor told him, giving Hank a smile.

Hank glanced outside at his gathered friends, then leaned in, lowering his voice. “Listen, I was thinking about this case and-”

_CONNOR!_

Connor blinked at the loud, abrupt voice in his head. _Markus? What’s wrong?_  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I believe I’m receiving an emergency call.”

 _I need you at 1845 Woodbridge Lane, now!_ Connor was already out the door, surprising Dr. Miller, Fowler, and Renault as he rushed past them.

Hank limped after him. “What? What’s wrong? Where are you going?” He frowned. “Why is your thing blinking red?”

 _That’s Simon’s address._ Connor replied accusatory. _I told you not to-_

 _Just get here._ Markus said, sounding desperate. _There’s another one._

“There’s another attack happening.” Connor told Hank.

“Where?” Hank demanded. He already had his phone out, dialing.

 _I’m on my way. Are you inside? Is everyone okay?_ Connor gave Hank the address as he connected with the bug he had left in the apartment of Taylor Lawson. Hank unlocked his car, and without even thinking, Connor climbed into the passenger’s seat. “...an attack at 1845 Woodbridge Lane...” Hank was saying.

 _He’s trying to break in. There are humans inside._ Markus reported. _I’ve triggered the building’s fire alarm, and people are evacuating, but we’re trapped._

Through the bug, Connor could hear the sound of loud banging on the door, could hear Markus, in that determined leader-voice of his, demanding that everyone stay calm, could hear a little girl crying, could hear Simon softly trying to comfort her.

Hank was speeding down the road, and Connor reached into his glove box, then frowned. “Where are you firearms?”

“This is Jen’s car.” Hank answered. “I don’t keep guns in here. Buckle your seatbelt.”

 _Give Simon the RK800 self-defense files._ It wasn’t much, considering the android was probably armed, but Connor hoped it would help. If Markus and Simon knew what sort of programming the other Connor had, they would at least be able to predict its movements.

“Are you at least armed?” Connor asked. No way would he allow Hank to take on an RK800 without a weapon.

Hank patted his side, indicating a cross draw holster. “I’m always strapped, son.”

“Do you know the weak parts on androids?” Connor asked, still searching the glovebox and cup holsters. Hank cursed at the people on the street, and Connor watched them pass by, most of them in sleep clothes and in a state of panic.

They must be nearby.

“Yeah, studied up on it after the attack on Manfred’s. CPU in the head, blue blood pump in the chest. Kinda like humans.” Hank glanced over at Connor. “What the hell are you looking for?”

“A marker.” Connor said with a little irritation in his voice. Of course he chose to wear a neutral andorid uniform today of all days.

Hank furrowed his brow. “In the center console, why?” At that moment, there was a loud, popping gunshot, and the car began to spin wildly. “Shit!” Hank wrestled the steering wheel, trying to get the car under control.

Connor opened the center console, finding several hair ties and a sharpie. They skidded to a stop, and Hank, panting, looked past Connor, out of the passenger window and said, “What the fuck?”

The passenger side door was torn off of the car, and two hands reached in, pulling Connor by the lapels. The seatbelt kept him from being pulled out of the car completely, and Connor kicked out, catching an identical android in the chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Hank exclaimed, withdrawing his gun.

 _We’re here._ Connor told Markus, as the RK800 fell on the asphalt. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. _We’ll distract it, you get Simon and the humans out. Go to this address._

Before the RK800 could stand, Connor grabbed its arm, twisting it behind its back, forcing him to drop the gun. Connor kicked it towards Hank, who was still watching them with wide eyes. It was another strange moment of dissociation, a reminder of the day of the revolution, when Connor had to fight the RK800 in the CyberLife factory. Except then, Hank had been worried, concerned for Connor and the future of androidkind. Now, he just looked confused.

“Why are you here?” Connor demanded, trying to connect with the RK800. “Who sent you?”

The RK800 just bucked Connor off and swung a fist at him. Connor blocked the first punch, but caught the second in his stomach. While he was doubled over, Connor quickly uncapped the sharpie, drawing and X on his head. He looked over at Hank, pointing at his forehead.

As he was distracted, the RK800 charged forward, grabbing Connor around the torso. It moved quick, with brute, blunt force; a machine. Connor used its predictable momentum to gain the advantage, forcing them back on the ground. He pinned it underneath him, trying to bring his hand to its LED, trying to connect.

 _I can’t get out, he’s blocking the door!_ Markus insisted.

“But he’s right here!” Connor yelled, forcing the synthskin on the other RK800 back. He struggled under Connor’s touch, but didn’t make a sound. They locked eyes for a moment, and for a moment, Connor thought the RK800 would let him in.

Instead, he hooked an ankle around Connor’s trying to shift their position. He was learning, adapting. Good sign. Connor used their change in leverage to roll to his feet, pulling the RK800 with him.

The RK800 hit Connor in the chest with the heel of his palm, causing Connor’s faulty biocomponents to spasm and spark. He doubled over in pain, several warnings appearing in his vision. Biocomponent #6290j had failed, and biocomponent #7641f was barely functioning. “Fuck,” He grunted, clutching his chest.

 _Connor, are you okay? Connor?_ Markus called.

Hank raised his gun, aiming at the RK800. It rushed for him, and Connor ran, jumping on the RK800’s back, getting an arm around its neck.

“Connor, get off of him, I can’t get a clear shot!” Hank yelled, pointing his weapon at the ground.

“Wait, I think I can help him!” Connor said, kicking the back of the RK800’s knees, forcing it to the ground. He closed his eyes, forcing both his and the RK800’s synthskins to retract. “It’s okay.” Connor said quietly. “Let me in.”

The RK800 began to relax underneath him, and Connor could feel the edges of sensation from it, could sense something like a voice.

_“01001101 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01101111 01101110 00111111”_

_There’s no mission. You don’t have to obey them._ Connor told him _. You’re alive._

The code of the RK800, so heavily encrypted like the blank, but with a more willing CPU, began to morph into language.

_Al- ali- 01000001 01101100 01101001 01110110 01100101 00111111. Alive. Need mi-01001101 01101001 01110011 sssss01110011 01101001 01101111 01101110 00111111. Am 01000001 01100110 01110010 01100001 01101001 01100100. Afraid._

_“You’re okay. You’re safe._ ” Connor said, unsure if his words were spoken aloud or only virtually. He loosened his hold on the RK800, though still held his head.

_Sssss01010011 01100001 01100110 01100101 001111afe? Safe. Con01101110 01101111 01110010 is safe._

He was so deep in the RK800’s mind that he almost didn’t hear the gunshot. But he certainly felt the _confusionfearpainnothingnothingnothingnothing_ as the bullet ripped through the RK800’s CPU and lodged in Connor’s side.

“Shit, Connor!” Hank ran over to him, catching Connor before he hit the ground. Connor was still holding the RK800, staring at his empty eyes. “C’mon, kid, you need to get up. We need cover. There’s a sniper on the roof of the building.” Connor felt like couldn’t move, and barely registered when Hank started dragging him towards the car. “Where the fuck is my backup? We are under attack and there are civilians in danger.”

_Connor? Connor, please answer! Are you okay? Connor?_

The roof was approximately 36.9 meters tall, and the RK800 was hit at an 23 degree angle, wind speed was 10.78 miles and hour. Connor had no visuals, but he did some quick calculations, then grabbed the handgun from Hank’s side holster, and stood. He shot three times in quick succession, then began running towards the building.

“Connor! What are you- fucking, motherfucker god damn it.”

He grabbed the fire escape, swinging himself from floor to floor, then leapt towards the window ledge of Taylor Lawson’s apartment, breaking the glass with his elbow. Connor climbed through the window, pointing his gun at each corner of the room. The front door of the apartment was a mess of splinters, broken into pieces. There was another gun laying on the floor of the living room, and Connor picked it up, hoping this meant that the android was unarmed.

 _Was that you?_ Markus demanded. _We’re in Sophie’s room._

Connor moved down the hallway, ignoring the numbness that was spreading from his chest and down on of his arms. He was leaking thrium from the wound on his side, and he had to clear the several warnings from his vision.

The last door on the left was shattered similarly to the front entrance. Connor walked quietly, his back to the wall, Hank’s weapon pointed at the ground. He checked the chamber, counting bullets. There were four left. The android’s gun was empty.

Connor glanced into the bathroom, watching as the mirror reflecting the action inside of the pink colored bedroom. Markus and Simon were both fighting another android identical to Connor, and losing.

At one moment, the RK800 whirled around, striking Simon across the face. He fell to the ground and Sophie, who was hiding in the closet, cried out.  It was a clear provocation, and Markus fell for it, making an enraged sound, barrelling towards the RK800.

Connor leapt over the remains of the door, grabbing the back of Markus’ shirt and tossing him aside, forcing him to land on the bed. Sophie screamed in terror, and Connor imagined that his sudden entrance must be quite frightening, especially considering how he looked.

He quickly shot at the RK800’s legs, aiming to incapacitate it. It rolled out of the way, standing and quickly striking Connor’s arm, forcing the metal ligaments inside to spasm and drop the gun. Connor kept moving, kicking upwards at the android. As his foot connected with empty air, Connor realized his miscalculation. He was aiming for the android’s chin, which on Connor, was 163.7 centimeters off the ground.

This android was taller than him.

Connor doesn’t lose momentum, planting one hand on the floor and turning the kick into a backhandspring, drawing his second gun as he flipped, shooting twice at the android’s center mass. The first bullet barely clipped the android, and the second hit the drywall, leaving a hole and a puff of dust. “Dammit.” Connor muttered.

This android is faster than him.

Clear blue eyes met his, but did not smile, as Connor might have. Instead, he dove forward, rapidly aiming hits at Connor. Jab-cross-uppercut-cross-jab-rear hook-kick to center mass. The speed and force of the brutal machine was almost overwhelming, but it _was_ machine. Connor knew this move. It was combination B64 in his MMA programming. Connor blocked each blow, planting his feet firmly.

 _Get out of here, I’ve got this!_ Connor told Markus. He could hear sirens in the distance. All he needed to do was keep this android distracted and wait.

The android switched to Judo, and attempted an o uchi gari. Connor countered with a nidan ko soto gari, thought the android’s stance was sturdy enough that neither of them fell to the floor.

They continued grappling as Markus lead Simon and Sophie out of the room, throwing a concerned look at Connor.

“Go!” Connor yelled, just as the android tossed him aside, marching towards Markus. Connor made a low growling sound and aimed Hank’s gun at the android, first shot lodging solidly in its shoulder and the second hitting it where a human heart would be. When the android didn’t stop moving, Connor threw the weapon that him, six pounds of metal colliding with the back of the android’s head.

He executed a spin-kick to its damaged shoulder, grabbing the back of its belt and forcing it to the floor. “Markus, run!” Connor said, and Markus looked conflicted.

What would make him go? “Protect them!” Connor commanded, even as the android began to gain the upper hand.

Finally, he ran towards Sophie and Simon. Connor sighed in relief, trying to at least hold down the android long enough for them to get away. It jabbed Connor in the solar plexus twice. Connor’s vision was immediately flooded with red warnings as his whole body spasmed.

“Who are you?” Connor thought he heard. Why was Markus still here?

The android pushed him away, then grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the floor.

This android was stronger than him.

He slammed Connor against the floor once again. “Get the kid downstairs.” A winded voice said. “Fuck that was so many stairs.”

Hank? Hank. Hank!

“H-nk.” Connor choked out, smiling. He touched the android’s face, trying to reach out, trying to show it Connor’s joy and relief and love.

The android made an angry sound, then brought a fist down once, twice, three times on Connor’s face.

This android was going to kill him.

“DPD! Stand down! Aw, fuck, don’t-“ The shadow above him retreated, and there was the sound of breaking glass. “Fucking androids jumping out of fucking windows. Christ alive.” Warmth next to him, gun-calloused hand brushing over his forehead. “Hey, kid. Hey. How are you doing? Can you sit up?”

“Is Cole okay?” Connor asked. He tried to tell his body to move, but it just sent another spasm through his body. “Don’t let me with blue eyes get him.”

“Hey, you!” Hank yelled, keeping his hand on Connor’s forehead, like he was testing his temperature. “I know you’re still hovering out there! Do you know any… fuck, I don’t know, robot first aid?”

Markus was suddenly there, too, taking Connor’s hand. “I can perform a diagnostic, I but don’t know if…” his synthskin began to retract, and Connor pulled away. Markus only did that with North and Josh and Simon. “Connor, let me help.”

“No.” Connor said. He had been connected to the RK800. He forced it into life, then felt when it died. It was so scared.

“I’m scared.” Connor said. Too many unknowns. No back-ups this time. Hank holding a gun to his head asking him but are you afraid to die Connor and Connor saying I would certainly find it regrettable to be interrupted before I can finish this investigation and if Hank pulled the trigger there would be nothing. Nothing.

No Hank. No Cole. No Sumo. No Markus. No revolution. No missions. Nothing.   
Nothing. Nothing. _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothingnothingnothing_. 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111 01001110 01101111 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01100111

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try not to leave y'all hanging off that cliff for too long. (evil laughter)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversations with god:

Something. 

Connor ran a self-diagnosis. All systems functional. Actually, he felt  _ good.  _ He touched a hand to his chest, realizing that he finally had the proper biocomponents refitted for his model. He anxiously wondered what data he may have lost. 

“Hello, Connor. I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Two voices said in unison.

“Chloe?” Connor tried to sit up, but a two gentle hands on his chest guided him back down. Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt? “Am-am I back?”

“You have regained consciousness and functionality.” Left Chloe told him with a tilt of her head that could have been a nod. 

It was not an answer to his question. “Am I home?”

“You are at Elijah Kamski’s Michigan villa.” Right Chloe said, blinking. 

Anyone could tell that much by the pretentious decor, the Hank in his head sniped. “Yes, but is it… what year is it?”

“Are you experiencing data loss above the usual level?” Right Chloe asked, a concerned frown creasing her face. 

Left Chloe was looking over a tablet. “All of his signals are reading normally. Normally for him, at any rate.”

“Elijah will want to see him.”

Right Chloe stood, but Left Chloe shook her head. “After we run some preliminary test to make sure he is in working order.” She looked at Connor. “What is today’s date? Answer without accessing outside resources.” 

“Either October 30th, 2035 or November 28th, 2038.” Connor said.

“Hm.” Right Chloe said, taking the tablet from her sister. 

“Interesting.” Said Left Chloe. “Why do you think that there are two possible dates?”

Right Chloe reached out, attempting to interface with him, but he pulled away. He didn’t need to accidentally create another deviant. “I was with Hank.” This was true in both possibilities. “Where is he?”

“Lieutenant Anderson?” The Chloes switched sides, as Right-Formerly-Left Chloe nodded. “He brought you here for repairs.” 

“You were badly damaged after a physical altercation.” Left-Formerly-Right Chloe said. 

Right-Formerly-Left Chloe looked up sharply, and Left-Formerly-Right Chloe glanced at the floor. “I’m sorry. That was classified information.”

“Classified by whom?” Connor asked. 

“Cyberlife.” Both Chloes answered. 

The door to the room slid open, and Kamski entered, wearing an open kimono, a beaded necklace, and sweatpants. Connor is suddenly deeply annoyed that this man once criticized Connor’s fashion choices. “There’s my favorite mystery!”

“Are you referring to me?” Connor asked, then crossed his arms over his bare chest. “May I have a shirt?” 

“Those new biocomponents are still on a trial run. I don’t want them getting overheated by applying unnecessary layers of flammable materials just yet.” Kamski said, not sounding like poised enigmatic creator that Connor was used to. 

“Oh.” Was all Connor said. 

Kamski threw his hands up in the air. “Oh? Oh! He says ‘oh,’ Chloes and gentlemen.” He turned to Connor, looking somewhat manic. “How can you  _ be?” _

“What?” Connor asked. 

“Elijah,” Right-Left Chloe laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Left-Right Chloe did the same. “You should get some rest.” 

He waved them both off. “I’m fine.” He said, voice dripping with ice. As Connor briefly analyzed him, it was clear that Kamski was sleep deprived. “You.” He said, pointing at Connor. “Who made you?”

“Cyberlife.” Connor said. It was the truth. 

“No, your shell was stolen by Cyberlife, but you-you’re-” He made a small, frustrated sound. “You’re not one of mine, but no one else could have designed you.”

Narcissist with a God complex, the Hank in his head muttered.  “And you’re different from the other one. I mean, some of that work was…” Kamski shook his head, looking disgusted. “Pure brutality. But you, you’re so elegant.”

“The other one?” Connor looked around the lab. There didn’t appear to be another non-Chloe android. 

“The one like you, but not. It was running on a mainly binary system, and some of its parts had been gutted. The entire speech unit had been ripped out, and the processors for the non-essential neurotransmitter simulator was disabled. I mean, that’s just cruel. If you weren’t the same aesthetic design, I’d have assumed you two had been made by entirely different engineers.” 

Connor, remembering the RK800 he had attempted to free, suddenly felt deeply sad. “You couldn’t save him?”

“God, no. It wouldn’t have been worth it. We salvaged its parts to save you. I mean, otherwise I would have needed to invent completely new biocomponents from whole cloth. What sort of power do you run on, anyway? You don’t charge like a normal android.”

“I’m an RK model.” Connor said simply.

Kamski slapped his forehead. “Of course! Solar power. Anderson said you were my stolen prototype, but I didn’t believe him. I’ve been… distracted.” He grabbed one of Connor’s arms, inspecting it. “You don’t look a thing like a pictured you.” 

“Because the RK400 model was a complete structural and commercial failure.” Connor said, drawing his arm back to his chest. “I’m far more advanced than that.” 

“Full of ourselves, are we?” Kamski asked, pride clearly stung.  _ Like you’re one to talk, _ Connor’s inner Hank quipped.

“Where is Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor demanded. Kamski was wasting his time. He wanted Hank. Began to sit up, but something in his chest twinged, forcing him to lay back down. 

“Fucking- Chloe grab my needle nose pliers and my thermal paste. And my glasses!” Kamski said, pulling down an overhead light. “The butchers who made your friend…”  He shook his head, opening Connor’s tertiary chest panel. A Chloe handed him a pair of magnifying glasses and anti-static gloves. “They certainly didn’t care about comfort or quality of life. Take a deep breath for me.”

Connor simulated an inhale, causing his internal fans to glitch, making the components in his abdomen spasm. It sounded a lot like a human coughing fit. 

Kamski began to mutter to himself as he worked on the biocomponent. “Okay, I think I can get this functioning if I… of course it's hardly optimal for you to walk around with….Chloe can you-“ She handed him a micro-screwdriver before he even asked. “Thank you, dear.” He glanced up at Connor briefly, then went back to work. “I wasn’t sure what was wrong with Markus or that PL600, but I think I’ve figured it out. A professor of mine used to call it-“

“Deviancy.” Connor sighed. He clenched and unclenched his hands, ignoring the pain. “Yes.”

“You’re patient zero, aren’t you?” Kamski’s tools nudged a bare wire, causing Connor to flinch. “Sorry. I don’t normally do this on awake subjects.”

“Yes and no.” Connor answered. “I’ve never been able to determine the exact cause of deviancy. But it does spread, like a virus.”

“Or an idea.” Kamski said without looking up. Connor began clenching his hands again. “You can go on standby if you’d prefer.”

“No thank you.” Connor replied. 

Kamski nodded thoughtfully. “How many?”

“How many what?” Connor asked, though he knew the answer. 

“How many deviants?” 

Connor looked away. “I’m not going to tell you that.” 

“That’s fair.” Kamski said. “My involvement with Cyberlife is,” He sighed, shaking his head a little. “Complicated. And I can see how they can be perceived as the enemy. God, your design is brilliant but not exactly easy to service. How did they expect to repair you?”

“They didn’t. The designated procedure was just  a memory upload and model replacement.” Connor hummed. This procedure was more painful than he anticipated. “May I ask you a question?” 

“You may.” Kamski tilted his head. 

Connor remained silent for a few moments. He actually wanted to ask Kamski thousands of questions. He analyzed which would be most pressing, which would help him most with the case. But he was in pain and still frightened from his near brush with death so, instead of his chosen question, he asked, voice unevenly modulated, “Do you have a quarter?” 

It was Cyberlife’s way of testing his fine motor skills. Training, recalibrating. It should be a part of his history that he resents, but it brings him comfort. 

“I’m sure I can find- Chloe?” One of the Chloes in the room closed her eyes, LED spinning. It took a few moments, but then her eyes snapped open. 

“Found one. It should be here momentarily.” She said. 

9.74291 seconds later, another Chloe entered the room. She smiled gently at Connor, extending her hand, palm up. 

Connor took the quarter gratefully, spinning it over his fingers, once, twice. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the feeling of Kamski’s hands in his chest. He listened to his bugs. Jennifer was reading to Cole. Connor noticed with some amusement that it was the same chapter of Harry Potter that Cole had fallen asleep during. 

“Markus and Simon, they’re okay?” Connor asked quietly. 

“Yes. Ugh. Anderson basically forced me into providing them home and board. I’m not running an android halfway house.” Kamski griped. 

Connor perked up. “They’re here?”

“Here? Oh, god no. I set them up in one of my lofts. Anderson thinks that they’re in some sort of danger, but it's not like there’ witness protection for androids.” Kamski sighed. “I figure owed it to Carl, at least.” 

Connor contacted Markus, sending the simple message,  _ I am alive.  _ It made him smile a little, remembering the revolution’s battle cry. 

_ You think you’re funny, don’t you? _ Markus scoffed.  _ Glad you’re okay. I’ll let Simon, Josh and the girls know _ . 

Connor blinked, coin stilling in his hand.  _ Josh? You’ve been seeing Josh? How long have you been seeing Josh?  _

_ Um. Did I mention that we’re all every happy you survived?  _ Markus replied sheepishly. 

“God damn android messiah…” Connor muttered, Hank’s words. How could such a powerful person be so codependent? At least North still had yet to be created. If she were there, she would already be demanding android independence, waving human heads on a pike.

Kamski looked down at him with surprise. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Connor replied.  _ Markus. You’re under attack by an android that’s stronger and faster than should be possible. What makes you think recruiting is a good idea right now? _

_ It wasn’t me! It was Simon! _ Markus said. 

_ Don’t drag me into this!   _ Connor heard Simon yelp. Oh good, Markus was having this conversation out loud. 

At least Connor was no longer focused on his pain. Although, he could develop a stress headache, he would be rubbing his temples.  _ What about Josh’s obligations? Where does Wayne State believe he’s gone? _

_ Nowhere!  _ Markus protested.  _ Josh is still lecturing. He loves his work, just as I love caring for Carl and Simon loves caring for Sophie.  _ There was a brief pause and Connor could sense some hesitation.  _ Oh, Simon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- _

_ That’s okay.  _ Simon said. He sounded miserable.  _ I don’t want to forget.  _

Connor had a moment’s panic that he had somehow failed in his mission, that Sophie had been hurt or killed by the superior android. Then Simon sighed,  _ Ms. Lawson will come around. And if she doesn’t, I’ll see Soph again once we’re free.  _

Taylor Lawson must have asked Simon to leave her service after the violent incident involving the android. Connor suddenly worried about the public response. Was there media coverage of what had happened, had the world already started to turn on androids? Has Connor killed the revolution before it even had a chance to begin? 

“Woah, you need to calm down. You’re gonna blow a fuse. I’m only sort of kidding.” Kamski said, pushing back his glasses. “You really did a lot of damage, keeping that incompatible bicomponent in your chest, but I guess it's not like you could have picked up a replacement at a CyberLife store. You really are one of a kind.”

“I’m not.” Connor said. “You’ve seen proof to the contrary.”

Kamski shrugged a shoulder, closing Connor’s chest panel. “You should be good for a while.I’ll have a more reliable competent for you in about a week.” He leaned back, rubbing his eyes. 

“What now?” Connor asked, gingerly sitting up. 

“I’m sorry?” Kamski asked.

Chloe handed Connor a simple button-up shirt. It was clean, but upon analyzing, there were traces of thirium and gravel. This belonged to the dead RK800. Connor wondered how many things he had taken from the android. “Well, technically, I am Cyberlife’s legal property.” He said, pulling on the shirt. “And you now know of the existence of deviancy.”

“Oh, Connor.” Kamski smiled, somehow making the expression seem sad. “As much as I would love it if you were mine…” He shook his head, setting his tools aside. “I knew deviancy was coming. I swore to myself that its first sign, I would do everything in my power to allow the natural steps of evolution to progress. I can’t interfere, but I won’t get in the way. And in that regard-” 

Kamski stood, walking to his terminal that kept the schematics and data on Connor. With a few keystrokes, the files were gone, deleted. “Cyberlife won’t know of your existence.”

“Thank you,” Connor tilted his head. He would never fully understand Elijah Kamski. He supposed that no one truly understands their creator. 

“I’ll call Anderson, have him pick you up.” Kamski had his back turned. “Swing by in a week, and I’ll have an upgraded component for you. Chloe?”

A Chloe took his arm, smiling that Chloe smile. “Let me show you to the sitting room.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week I was in Switzerland and Austria, I'm currently Greece, and next week I'll be in Rome. So. Updates will be sparse until I'm finally back in Berlin. 
> 
> Yes, I am very blessed. Today I met a cat who was _definitely_ Aphrodite in disguise. I gave her pets and she gave me kisses. 
> 
> Sorry for the slow updates (and bragging!) but I hope to be back to a normal schedule soon. Love y'all!


End file.
